The Weakness
by nobodybuti
Summary: Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort has always been labeled as one that cannot love. But is that entirely true? What if there was one girl that could have made all the difference? Minerva/Tom pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original stuff except for the things I made up in order for the story to make sense (:

Yeah..I kind of suck but that's okay.. (;

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I officially met Tom while I was in my fourth year, and he was in his second. Even though I was older by two years, he had a lean, slender, and tall figure that always made me feel like _I _was the small,

powerless one. I don't have many friends—just one; we fight so much, because she likes to talk about boys and gossip and makeup, but I like to study. One reason I enjoy Tom's company so much is

because he's one of the few that…_understand_ me. Forget about my family—none of them give a damn about how I'm doing, and when they write to me, it's like they marked a piece of parchment

randomly and sent it to me while the other girls got sweets, clothes, and love. Tom and I both lack love. And when you lack love, it leaves you bitter and cold inside. I walk by myself, mostly, in the

hallways of Hogwarts. The good thing about being quiet, studious, and determined is that people actually _pity _you. They think you need their _pity_. Due to that, there is much less drama, tears, and

rough break ups. You live a quiet life. That's how I like it. When I pass Tom in the hallways, he catches my eye, but doesn't smile; doesn't acknowledge me in anyway, and nor do I. I can't expect so

much from him—after all, he's like the role model of Slytherin; beautifully handsome, merciless, but so _damn_ charming. If you were just someone to look at us from the outside—you wouldn't even look

twice at the two of us, but really, I am probably the closest person to Tom. We meet at midnight every night; that's why there are always dark circles around my eyes, but unlike me, he can still look

gorgeous with sleep deprived circles under his eyes. And this is our story.

"Minerva," I heard someone's voice, low in my ear. Turning around; alarmed, I relaxed when I saw it was only Tom. He slipped a piece of parchment into my palm, and continued on his way with his

gloomy looking Slytherin followers. I smiled at him vaguely—something he did not return, or maybe was incapable of. Striding quickly away, I caught up to my conditional friend, Elizabeth Brown.

"Hello," She said, a fake smile spreading across her face.

"Hello." I muttered, running a hand through my raven hair. Elizabeth sighed with unmistakable jealousy, staring at my hair.

"I _wish_ I had your hair, Minerva. It's so black…and shiny," She added, and it was no more than I expected from her. To her, everything was about the _physical _appearance, and the personality didn't matter at all. I was proud to know that I, Minerva McGonagall, would never fall into the category of fake girls.

"Thank you…the same goes for you," I lied, my eyes flickering to her dark, blonde hair.

"Oh! You really think so?" She said, breaking into another smile.

"Yeah…definitely." I said nonchalantly, but Elizabeth wouldn't be able to tell, nor care. She sighed sincerely again.

"Please, _please_ let me do a makeover on you, Minerva! You'd be so pretty…I mean, you have those green eyes and raven hair…" She trailed off, looking at me pleadingly.

"No, I'm sorry," I said, not sounding like I was sorry at all, and Elizabeth glared at me and walked away. That's how easy it is to piss off a girl like Elizabeth Brown. In Transfiguration (easily my best class), Elizabeth veered away from where she usually sat, and gave me a dirty look. Writing furiously in my notes, I tried to add everything I had learned the past six years. I was so absorbed in my work, that I didn't notice the towering figure that lingered over me for a few seconds.

"Hullo," A soft, melodious voice rang out—it was oddly masculine, though, and when I looked up, I saw a handsome, dark-skinned boy standing there. Hero Zabini. How…how gentlemen of him to come greet me in such a polite way, when I had remembered him in the presence of unpleasant company—such as Malfoy, or Avery.

"Greetings, Zabini." I spluttered, slightly nonplussed as he slid into the seat next to me. I shot Tom a bewildered look—he was not looking in my direction, though. Professor Dumbledore pranced out of his office—yes, pranced—the man was always so happy.

"Hello, class," He said, smiling at all the grouchy, moody students that sat grudgingly in front of him. "I know the Christmas holidays are coming up, and I am terribly sorry that you still are required to write a ten-inch essay," An amused look sprawled across his face as a handful of students groaned.

"You may study as you please, we have no particular lesson planned for today." With this, he swept back into the office and Zabini turned to me.

"Can you believe our luck? After Professor Binns' class I wouldn't have been able to stand another one," He told me, as if we were old buddies. I stared at him.

"Zabini," I started, watching him write down his notes on a piece of blank parchment. He looked up momentarily, his quill hanging a centimeter over the paper and his hand twitching to write.

"Why have you suddenly decided to be in my company? Last time I remembered, we were sworn enemies," I added hastily. Zabini laughed for a second, but then turned serious.

"I…I don't know," He said, looking confused himself. "If you don't like it, I can move…" Trailing off, he lowered his gaze.

"Ah, no! That's not what I meant at all. Just a bit…puzzled," I said quickly, and relief flooded over his face again. He smiled at me—I returned it; I was not like Tom in every way. Tom _did_ act friendly—but only when he wanted to manipulate someone. For the rest of the lesson, Zabini and I shared our notes and the dismissal came earlier than I had previously thought. I hurried to the Gryffindor Tower and when I got there, I unfolded Tom's piece of parchment.

_**11 o'clock, Astronomy Tower. Be there. **_

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Well, _of course_ I was going to be there—my thoughts were interrupted by a screeching and pecking owl outside my window. I opened the window cautiously, and when I recognized the owl as my mothers', my heart sank. It was a letter telling me that I was going to be going back home for Christmas, because my hated Grandmother, Pansy McGonagall was going to be there also. Angrily crumpling up the letter, I threw it into the fire. I _hated_ it when my parents told me what to do. When were they going to stop, already? To my surprise, tears pricked up in my eyes out of frustration, I wiped them away hastily. The other girls in the dormitory were giving me sympathetic looks, and I crawled into my bed, pretending to sleep.

At 11 o'clock, I reached the astronomy tower and leaned on one of the pillars, my arms crossed. A few minutes passed, and I felt a cool, slender hand grab my wrist. Gasping slightly, I looked up and saw Tom. He drew me closer to him, and put a long finger onto my lips. Blushing, I allowed him to lead me onto the balconies that the fifth, sixth, and seventh years' did their O.W.L's on. It was very large—almost as large as the Viaduct. I could feel him peering at me curiously, and I gave him an annoyed look.

"What?" I asked, and to my distaste, my voice sounded soft and tender. His eyes studied mine for a moment, and then he leaned over so that his palm was propping his right cheek up as he watched me stare into the night.

"Have you been crying?" His voice was faintly amused, and I glared at him, my cheeks flushing, and I was thankful that the night was dark.

"No!" I replied defiantly, but he lifted his thumb and traced lightly over my cheek to my jaw. Shivering involuntarily at his touch, I returned his intense gaze.

"Don't lie to me, Minerva McGonagall. You of all people should know that you can _never_ lie to Lord Voldemort." He said softly. Glaring at him, I backed away. His hand dropped very suddenly.

"_Voldemort_," I spat, fury welling up in my chest. "I'm not your follower, Tom. I'm…I'm just Minerva," I finished lamely. Tom looked truly angry for a second—I saw the dangerous flicker in his eye.

"You'll never understand, Minerva. You and your little Gryffindors, arguing about silly, unimportant affairs. Quidditch," He said, looking annoyed. "Quidditch is nothing compared to the Dark Arts. _Nothing_." I stumbled backwards—this time, I really took a trip, but Tom caught me swiftly around the waist. I felt his lean arm burn against my unexposed skin—I shuddered. He noticed, and gave me an amused look.

"So you have been messing around with the Dark Arts," I said, avoiding his gaze. His answer was soft and dangerous.

"Yes."

"Tom! Don't…please," I begged. "Just drop it…for me," Even though I knew that every word of begging that came out of my mouth was useless, I said it all, for Tom. He only smirked at my feeble attempt.

"Having you in my presence is not something I am proud of, Minerva. Maybe I am delighted with your company…but it disgusts me to see that I care about you. That I…" He trailed off, and I felt butterflies in my stomach. Tom…_cared_? He was not finished.

"Disgusts me to see that I have grown so close to another…yet I cannot let go," He muttered. "Maybe if I tried…" A hungry gleam flickered across his handsome face—he raised his wand, his blood red lips opening slightly.

"Are you really going to curse me, Tom Riddle? After all this time?" I felt my voice quavering and tears welling up in my eyes again—goodness, what was _wrong_ with me today? My stern thoughts did not help. The tears trickled down. Tom looked shocked—disturbed for a moment, and he raised his fingers, wiping off a tear gingerly. I flinched away from him, and for a moment I thought there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

"I thought you _cared_," I hissed, and I backed away, so scared, so sad, and so confused. I stumbled back to the Gryffindor Tower blindly the whole way, tears stinging my eyes a big, heavy lump in my throat.

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Hope you liked it (:

Review please?


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is just a filler for what's about to happen ..yeah haha sorry if it sucks.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the original characters

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The next Saturday morning, the first thing I saw was the Fourth year Gryffindor girls looming over me. I jumped up, and they looked worried.

"Minerva, are you quite alright?" A girl I knew as Kielce asked, with a worried expression on her face. My eyes widened for a moment, and then I propped myself up on the pillow. My bones ached and my head spun.

"What happened?" I murmured, my voice coming out hoarse and croaky from sleep. None of the girls seemed to notice this.

"Professor Dumbledore saw you, stunned, on the floor. Someone put that spell on you. He called for Kielce and I to take you back to the dormitories, and you just woke up now. Who did it, Minerva?" Elizabeth asked, apparently forgetting our foolish, shallow argument hours ago. My heart started pounding. The blood in my head seemed to blow up in my head. I knew who did it. But after all this, I still refused to turn him in for all the cruelties he had done. What was wrong with me? Do it now, Minerva. Now.

"I do not know," I muttered, rubbing my forehead distractedly. Another girl gasped, fearfully.

"You don't think…you don't think the Chamber of Secrets is opened?" She asked, her livid eyes rolling in each direction wildly. Before Minerva could laugh at her idea, Jasmine scoffed and placed her hands on her hips.

"That's some rubbish you're talking right now! It's just a _myth_, girl!" She exclaimed, but the other girls exchanged stupefied glances.

"There are no Muggle-borns here in fourth year, here in Gryffindor," the girl whispered, her eyes still overwhelmingly active.

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of." Jasmine snapped, and I felt a rush of admiration for her. I pulled myself out of bed and realized that Tom had left a note in my tightly clamped hand.

_**I'll find you today.**_

"What's that?" Elizabeth asked, prodding my hand, her eyes on the ripped parchment. I stuffed it into my pocket. Shuddering, I shook her off.

"Nothing. I'm going to take a…bath. Thanks, for bringing me back." Elizabeth didn't delve deeper—although she was no genius, she knew I was trying to get away. Silently creeping out of the dormitory, I slipped out into the Grand staircase, afraid of what Tom had done.

When I stepped into the bathroom, my eyes widened with shock. Tom—Tom Riddle, standing there, with his tall figure hunched, staring glassily at the sink of the bathroom. I backed out slowly, but his head snapped towards me and there was relief and anger sketched over his handsome face. I continued to run, but he was faster than me. Grabbing me around the waist none to gently, he dragged me back in, and slammed the door roughly.

"L-let go of me," I stuttered, my eyes wide and fearful. Tom smirked, and let me go. I stumbled forward and fell. He looked down at me in amusement, and I blushed, despite myself.

"Where's that Gryffindor courage of yours, Minerva?" He asked his eyes mocking and cruel. I shrugged and stared at him.

"Why are you in here?" I asked, struggling to keep from running away. Tom raised an eyebrow—and I realized that he was not used to people asking _him_ questions.

"Why are _you_ here? No one ever uses this bathroom," He snapped back, and I stepped back instinctively.

"I… I wanted to get away. Someone attacked me, yesterday, and…and I want some time alone, to, er, take a bath," I muttered, ducking my head low. I felt a cool finger on my chin and I looked up in surprise.

"You must think I attacked you, Minerva. But I didn't. It could be Yaxley or one of those foolish followers of mine." I felt a sigh of relief escape from my lips, and his gaze was suddenly intent on mine. "I would _never_ attack you, Minerva. You _know_ that." But did I? Staring at his lips, I shook my head.

"You…you tried to attack me, yesterday night. On the Astronomy Tower." I said, my voice sounding soft and weak, much to my dislike. He sighed in an exasperated way.

"I know, Minerva. I'm sorry, alright?" He said, his eyes tracing my face. I was shocked. Tom Riddle—Slytherin king, most popular, handsome, wanted boy in the school, even by the older students—was _apologizing_ to me? I had never overcome the feeling that _Tom_ was the older one—even though he was younger by barely two years. What I did surprised myself, and him. I stifled a sob as I threw myself into his arms, and I felt him stiffen immediately at the contact. He didn't push me away, though, but did not embrace me back.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, sniffling. He was gazing at me with an intense look on his face, curious and shocked at the same time.

"Its fine, Minerva. Just…don't do that again." He said, but his face broke out in an uneasy smile. "Ah, you say you were here for a bath?" His expression changed to amusement when I blushed.

"Yes…Tom. Would you—would you mind if you stepped out for a while I…do my business?" I asked meekly, smiling when he laughed stiffly. Good enough for a boy like Tom, anyways.

"Of course." Tom said, and retreated back, casting an unreadable expression at me. Before he left, he paused.

"Minerva…after this time, don't come back in here, alright?" He told me, and I looked at him, confused. He walked away, closing the doors of the bathroom. I stood there for a moment, puzzled, and then stripped off my clothing. I stepped in front of the wide mirror first—observing myself. I wondered why I was doing this; I had pitied others for being so shallow, so why was I doing the same? All the same, I was happy with my slender body and raven locks. I sighed, and settled into the bath. Sinking low into the water and watching my dark hair float around me, I wondered what could possibly be a danger to me in here.

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That's it haha...review, please :) ?


	3. Chapter 3

Agh I have writer's block. oh well

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all except the random people

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Once I was fully dressed and presentable, I pushed open the doors and strolled out. Tom wasn't there anymore—not that I expected him to be; a boy like him hanging around outside the girl's bathroom was not something to be proud of. I spent the rest of the day studying in my dorm—preparing for my O.W.L's and annoying many professors about getting Outstanding on everything. What shocked me those most was not the uneventful time that had passed before—but when Albus Dumbledore called me to his office, with a grave, unhappy look on his face.

"Ah, hello, Miss McGonagall," he greeted me, but without his usually twinkling blue eyes. I looked up, confused.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. Mind I ask why I am here?" I asked, and he motioned for me to sit down. Leaning forward, Professor Dumbledore folded his hands neatly.

"Lemon drop?" He asked, offering me one. I stared at him—but then nodded and took one.

"Er—thanks," I said awkwardly, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Miss McGonagall, I trust that you and Mr. Riddle are seeing each other at night?" He asked, and I felt my heart rate speeding up drastically.

"Um—yes, yes, Professor, but why?" I spluttered, never more nervous.

"I'd like to ask you to keep any eye on Mr. Riddle. He may be behind something…very dangerous, yes. Is there anything…dangerous about him I should know about?" _Yes. Yes. A million things. _I shook my head though, frantically, and a little too quickly.

"No, professor!" I blurted out, but my mind was screaming to tell him, but I was saying no and…

"Alright, Miss McGonagall. Do be careful, will you? If I were you, I'd limit the meetings. I'd rather you two meet in broad daylight, instead of wandering out in the halls during midnight." He said, and I nodded stupidly.

"Yes, of course." I replied, hesitating as I got up to return outside. Shaking off my fears, I retreated out to be met face to face by Tom. He looked angry; he grabbed my wrists roughly and dragged me away from Dumbledore's office.

"What the hell was that about?" He snapped, folding his arms when we were near the Forbidden Forest. Inching away from him, I nearly whimpered as his hands lashed out to grab onto my forearm.

"N-nothing," I stuttered, my eyes wide with fear. Now I wished I told Dumbledore about Tom. Tom and his sudden actions, dangerous and passionate.

"Please, Minerva. I…I won't do anything to you, I swear. Just please, tell me." He begged—very unlike himself.

"Dumbledore just wanted me to tell him about the night time meetings, that's all," I lied. "We can't do it anymore, he knows." Tom sighed in an exasperated way, and placed his hands on my shoulders. I felt a tingling sensation, but I ignored it.

"Thank you. We shouldn't—but…still," He muttered to himself mostly, staring at my face. I uncomfortably shifted around and he grabbed me to keep me still. Controlling, as usual. Suddenly, out of the blue, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine—I stood there, breathlessly for a minute, wanting to pull away from him. But then, I relaxed, my arms snaking around his neck, enjoying the moment, savoring it—it seemed like a lifetime before he broke away, cheeks flushed, panting slightly. He seemed more…human. We stared at each other for a moment; then Tom broke away from our closeness and swept back up the school. I thought about calling to him, but I stopped just as I opened my mouth. Closing it again, I ran back to the castle, flushed and….and in _love_.

"What are you so happy about?" Elizabeth Brown asked me as I sauntered into the dormitory. I could almost feel the other girls' skepticism—I was not the type to swoon. Blushing red, I tenderly sat myself upon the bed.

"Nothing." I muttered, inspecting my nails nonchalantly. Kielce Twycross, that girl—giggled, not that it was unusual. I looked up, murderously. How could she know…but she wouldn't.

"It's Tom Riddle, isn't it?" She giggled, but I groaned and hid my face behind my hands. The other girls squealed, and I left the dormitory annoyed, irritated, and bugged. That night, Tom didn't come see me. I didn't expect him, anyway. He was the type to expose himself to love—weakness, in his terms—and then try to find a way to hate you forever. I wouldn't expect him to ever talk to me again. It shocked me that I would ever think of Tom as more than a friend, but now…I wasn't so sure. But again, I was wrong.

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Review please (:


	4. Chapter 4

I wrote this in a bit of a hurry; it may not be perfect.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all...

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Did you know what a spectacular view you have of the night sky from the roof of Hogwarts? It's a shame we aren't allowed—the soft glow coming off of the moon was making me drowsy. As I was staring at the moon; mesmerized by it, even, like an idiot, I failed to hear the sudden movement from behind me.

"What are you doing?" An amused, cool voice made me jump and I almost fell off the roof. Turning around angrily, I saw Tom leaning against the wall of the clock tower.

"I do not know," I said angrily, embarrassed and annoyed. "I could have fallen off, Tom! _Died_!" Startled as I was—I couldn't help noticing how beautiful he was, and I almost slapped myself.

"You wouldn't have," He muttered, and I rolled my eyes. Sitting down again, he joined me on my left. I was staring at the moon again—he was staring at me. Watching him from the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but smile a little as I turned to face him.

"Why aren't you with your Slytherin buddies?" I asked, a small smile settling on my lips. He tilted my head as I had done; I was sure we would have looked quite peculiar in this position.

"It's two o'clock am in the morning, Minerva. Why are you not with _your _Gryffindor buddies? Were they not _courageous_ enough to sneak onto the roof with you?" He said snidely, and I flinched visibly. His gaze did not soften at all.

"I do not have any Gryffindor friends. I do not have _any_ friends, Tom, except you." I snapped, annoyed with his unsettling but honest outburst. "You know that." Tom was staring at me with a fascinated expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, irritated.

"You think of me as a friend?" Tom said softly, leaning towards me. I felt my heartbeat speed up, and I started stuttering.

"Uh—no, I mean, I do not want a boyfriend, Tom," I spluttered lamely, and he chuckled for a moment, and then leaned back again.

"I did not mean it like that, Minerva. Is _this_ what it feels like to have a friend?" He asked, fluttering his bedroom eyes shut.

"I assume so," I said quietly, unsure.

"If I did ask you to go steady with me, would you say yes?" He asked me, smiling vaguely. Tom was the only one capable of asking the most awkward questions directly, and I felt a familiar blush spreading over my cheeks.

"Well—Tom! You cannot expect me to answer that like this." I said in a weak, faltering voice. He sneered, and I tried to ignore the fact that this boy was only a few inches away from me.

"Answer me, then." He breathed, and I felt a pleasant shudder ram through my shoulders.

"_Yes_," I replied, trying to sound exasperated but failing terribly. Tom leaned back, and I let out a sigh of relief. Observing me in his usual, holier-than-thou attitude, he smiled—a real smile, for the first time.

"What if I…" He paused for a moment, tracing my cheek with his slender fingers. I stared at him, mesmerized in his dark eyes. His thumb trailed down to my cheek, and propping it up, he leaned in and kissed me.

Just like that.

He had already kissed me without warning the day before—maybe out of frustration, maybe out of anger—but this time, it was so…so _gentle_. I don't know how long we stayed there—I lost track of time, curled against him. But it wasn't a meaningless, hooker type kiss that lasts for one night. It was a meaningful exchange of saliva and germs; if you must think of it like that—the type that lasts forever and ever. Tearing away from Tom, I stared at him, and he stared at me. There's something empty about that gaze—something wrong.

" Tom? Are you alright?" I asked, worried. He didn't reply, just slung his blazer over his shoulder in one swift movement and walked away. I watched him from the roof, and he must have known. Turning around, he raised his hand in unsmiling farewell. And that was it.

The next morning in the Great Hall, there was an extreme amount of commotion and panic spreading around the school. Professor Dumbledore had found the body of Myrtle, a third year Ravenclaw that I had not known of.

"Who did it?" The Ravenclaw students were angrily yelling to Headmaster Dippet; the Hufflepuff were looking very scared, and the Slytherins unbothered. But we, the Gryffindors had seemed to forget some of our Gryffindor courage and decided to act like a couple of Hufflepuffs. Frowning at them, I stooped to collect my books and walked out of the Great Hall. As shaken as I was, I would have never admitted that I was afraid. The first thing I saw—no, _heard_, once I had walked away from the Great Hall was Tom, speaking in a strange, raspy voice. _Parseltongue._ I had heard my mother and father discussing it previously. I nervously backed away slowly, and crept under the stairs. My foot hit the stone rather loudly—Tom whipped around, eyes searching, but then returned to the Great Hall, looking weary. With my heart pounding, I hurried away back to the Great Hall, wanting to speak to Professor Dumbledore, since most of the students had come pouring out already.

When I caught up with him, I was panting heavily.

"Yes, Miss McGonagall?" Dumbledore asked, looking anxious and determined. I let out a shaky breath—but then I had a thought: What if I told him about Tom speaking in Parseltongue, and then…Tom would never forgive me, ever again?

"I was—uh, wondering where Myrtle was killed." I said lamely, as I watched Professor Dumbledore's face fall.

"The bathroom on the second floor. I do not advise you to go wandering in by yourself—it is most definitely unsafe at the moment." He added strictly, and I nodded absently, already trying to maneuver my way through the crowd of students.

"And Miss McGonagall," He added, looking at me with his piercing, blue eyes, "What has our Mr. Riddle been doing all this time?" I frowned at him, knowing what this was leading to.

"I don't know, Professor. I haven't seen him in a while." I lied. And with this, I strolled away as quickly as I could. I made myself swear to never turn Tom in. After all, I had no proof of Tom being the culprit of Myrtle's death.

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Sorraay if it sucks.

Review please (:


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews (:

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all original stuffs

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Right after Transfiguration, I rushed out to the second floor bathroom. To my delight, even most of the Professors had cleared away from the location. Forgetting completely of what Tom had said previously about coming to the bathroom on the second floor, I eagerly stepped in. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a really gory, messy blood scene.

But it wasn't.

Instead of full, solid Myrtle, there was a howling, crying ghost in the shape of her. I stared for a moment—and then she saw me. Her face immediately lit up.

"Hello! I was beginning to think none of you could see me!" She shrieked, zooming in front of me.

"Uh—um, hello, Myrtle." I spluttered, bewildered. This was my perfect chance to ask her how she had died. "Myrtle, how did you die?" This was obviously the wrong thing to say, because Myrtle started sobbing and flinging herself into one of the stalls.

"I…I was in this stall," She sobbed, "And…and this…this thing was in front of me with big, yellow eyes. I looked into the eyes and I—" Breaking off, she returned to her fit of sobbing.

"But…Myrtle, it wasn't Tom, was it?" I blurted out before I could help myself, and she stared at me.

"Tom?" She asked. "Tom Riddle, the fourth year Slytherin? Oh, goodness, no!" Myrtle exclaimed. Relief spread through my chest. Of course it was not Tom. How could it be? Tom did not have yellow eyes.

"Alright, Myrtle. I'll just…go, now." I started, but she zoomed in front of me and placed her hands on her hips.

"You need to swear that you will come visit me again," She said. I was starting to get irritated at the plump, annoying ghost.

"I know, I will." I snapped, and flung myself out the doors before she could badger me any longer. I immediately regretted slamming the doors and sprinting out when I bumped right into Tom.

"AH!" I screamed, when I saw him. I almost slapped myself. He raised a fine eyebrow, looking slightly irritated.

"Hello, Minerva." Tom replied coolly, and I snapped my head around to see all his Slytherin friends.

"G'bye, then." I said, disregarding him instantly. I did not like the Tom Riddle that belonged to the Slytherins. I _loved_ the Tom Riddle that belonged to _me_. It was only then when I realized that I was in love with Tom Riddle, Slytherin extraordinaire.

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Sleep was not inviting that night. I flipped and turned all night, thinking about what Myrtle had said. Big, yellow, eyes...yellow, big eyes…did I know anyone with amber eyes? Suddenly, something very cold closed around my wrist and clamped onto my mouth when I started to scream.

"That's the second time you've done that," A voice hissed into my ear. Tom. Ah. What a nice way to come greet me, Tom. Sneaking into the Gryffindor_ Girl_s' Dormitory to see me. I tugged his hand out of the way and gave him a reproachful look.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" I snapped. There was no sign of amusement or easiness this time.

"I just want to know why you were at the bathroom where the Mudblood died," He replied. My head snapped towards him in shock.

"Don't _use_ that word, Tom!" I said, and he rolled his eyes. "I was there…because…uh, I wanted to talk to a ghost," I stuttered, keeping my gaze on the bedcovers. When they can't see your eyes, it's much harder to read their expression.

"If you think I did it, you are wrong." He said quietly, and when I looked up in surprise, I could tell he was serious.

"Do not be so foolish, Tom. That is _not_ the reason I was there." I lied. He didn't buy it, and to be honest, I didn't either.

"You know too much already. It was you that heard me talking in Parseltongue this morning, was it not?" He asked, and I knew there was no getting out of this.

"Yes. It was me. But I did not do it purposely," I added. The other girls were stirring already due to our conversation, and he took my hand in his gently. With our fingers intertwined, he led me away from the Gryffindor Tower, to the second floor bathroom. I couldn't help but realize how gentle he was being. I would not have thought a Slytherin would be capable of this activity, let alone Tom Riddle, the bitter boy that hated everyone. Everyone, except for me.

I had been so caught up with my thoughts that I didn't notice that he was inspecting a tap. He spoke in a low, raspy voice, and I suddenly felt fear flit through me.

"Want to go first?" He asked casually, as if the whole sink opening up to become a pipe was normal.

"Alright," I sighed, and settled down into the slimy tube. It was a long way down, and when I finally plopped down onto the ground, I stared back up the tube.

"Tom?" I whispered, a bit nervous. Tom finally slid out—in a much more graceful fashion than I had.

"Here." He placed a slender hand on my forearm and led me to a very wet, very dark chamber.

"Where are we?" I asked, shrinking against him as I noticed the gigantic stone figure of a snake, and then I suddenly realized. I turned to him in alarm, my eyes widening.

"What's in there, Tom?" I asked, but he only let out a small laugh. Why had I agreed to come in the first place?

"A basilik, Minerva. Do not worry—it will not hurt you, as long as I am with you. Besides, you are pureblood." He said grudgingly, as if jealous.

"Let's _go_," I hissed at him, pawing at his arm as I stared at the gigantic snake figure fearfully. He frowned at me—but then led me away, climbing up a pile of boulders to a tiny opening that we crawled out of.

"Is that what killed Myrtle?" I asked him. He cast his dark gaze on me.

"Yes, Minerva. That is what killed Myrtle." He didn't even sound sincere. Angrily turning around, I stared at him in disbelief.

"Well—well, tell Headmaster Dippet! It is not as if _you_ were the one that set it on Myrtle," I blurted out, and he let out a mean laugh.

"My, my, Minerva. I would have thought that brain of yours had realized that _I _was the one who set it upon the Mudblood. _I_ am the Heir of Slytherin, and no other is." Tom said, an excited look in his eyes and pride in his voice. I took a step backwards. He noticed this, and frowned at me, catching my arm.

"Minerva! You should be glad that I am ridding the Wizarding World of Mudbloods," He snapped, looking extremely annoyed.

"Tom…_please_, just tell it to stop," I begged him, for the sake of all the other muggle borns. Tom let out a shrill laugh, but when I did not return the laughter he stared at me, shocked.

"You are…you are serious," He said in disbelief. I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"Just…don't kill any more of them, Tom." I said in an exasperated way, until he met my eyes darkly.

"Alright. I will not set it on any other Mudbloods. Be grateful," He spat at me, but I smiled at him and embraced him quite suddenly. He stiffened all the same—I would have thought after the kisses we exchanged that he would be acting differently.

"Alright, Tom. Good night," I said, smiling vaguely, and then set towards the Gryffindor tower. And that is why Myrtle was the only muggle born that died this year. Foolishly in love, I walked happily, humming a joyful tune, unaware of the trillions of dangers ahead of me.

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	6. Chapter 6

I wrote this in a bit of a rush; so—sorry if there are mistakes in there.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

* * *

I don't know what to do anymore. I could go to Headmaster Dippet and tell him about the basilik, but Tom _did_ promise not to set it on anyone else. I was sitting in the library, attempting to study, but failing horribly since all my thoughts were on Tom.

"What are you doing?" An unfamiliar voice rang out again. But still, I recognized it. Zabini. Annoyed, I tilted my head up to look at him.

"Reading." I replied coolly, but he didn't seem to care.

"You are _not_ reading. I could tell," Zabini said. How bothersome was this boy? I sighed and set down _Hogwarts_, _A History_.

"You're right. I am just holding this book for _fun_." I snapped, but he looked extremely amused by my temper. Zabini was not one to participate with Tom's large group of followers—he seemed to have his own style of dominating people. He sat down opposite of me without asking.

"So, Minerva," he said, taking out his own rolls of parchment and ink, "I was wondering…would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?" I stared at my book, not looking up.

"Ha, ha, that's funny." I said, rolling my eyes, but he didn't laugh.

"Minerva. I am serious." Since his tone seemed genuine I looked up, and saw his expression—a bit offended.

"_What?"_ I exclaimed, bewildered. Now it was Zabini's turn to roll his eyes.

"So, will you or will you not?" He asked impatiently. I stared at him—why would Hero Zabini ever ask _me_?

"Oh! Sure—sure, why not?" I spluttered, momentarily lost for words. He gave me a big, fake smile and piled all his books back into his pack.

"Great, see you tomorrow," Zabini said, and strutted away arrogantly. I sank back into my seat, unsure and worried—yet foolishly happy. _What about Tom_? Tom would have to wait. He seemed to lack emotions and would _never_ ask me to go to Hogsmeade with him. He would probably invite me to have a picnic with the basilik. Yet there was a longing in my heart for Tom—not Zabini. Imitating Zabini, I threw my books into my bag and walked back up the moving stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Tom and I met at the Library this time.

"Hullo, Minerva." I heard him say as he strolled into the library with similar arrogance to Zabini. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I looked towards him and saw him heading to the restricted section.

"Tom! What are you doing?" I hissed, and he turned around and gave me a vague smile.

"Come on, Minerva. You're doing this with me." He called. I whipped around, making a violent "Shh!" sound, but he waved me off.

"I used _Muffliato_. Now _come on_." He insisted, and I sighed, heading towards him. Once we were in the restricted section, I stared at the rows and rows of horrible, cursed books and glanced at Tom.

"Why do you need a restricted book?" I asked, curious. Tom was acting rather strange lately—setting a basilik on Myrtle, wanting to rid of all muggle-borns in the Wizarding world; but as much as I regret it now, I would have never told Professor Dumbledore or Headmaster Dippet.

"Horcruxes," He replied vaguely, studying a book that he had pulled out of the shelf. An explosion of dust burst out when he opened it, and he slammed it shut, coughing. I let out a laugh; he glared at me.

"What are horcruxes?" I asked, puzzled. Tom gave me an exasperated look.

"I'd have thought you knew what horcruxes were, Minerva. After all, you _are_ top of your class and all that." He said. I scowled at him. "Horcruxes are made when you split your soul into pieces, or something like that. That's what Professor Slughorn said." I stared at him.

"Why would you want to split your soul into pieces, Tom?" I exclaimed, and huffily set the book I had been looking at back where it was previously.

"Do it yourself, Tom. I'm not going to help you kill muggle borns," I snapped, stomping away. His strong arms dragged me back—I cursed myself for not being strong enough to fight away. Now I was pressed right up to him, and watching his ruggedly handsome features up close was _not_ helping. He bent his head down to meet mine—then pressed his lips on mine for a moment, his tongue running along my bottom lip; I felt breathless.

"_Please_, Minerva?" He asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips. I tried to scowl—but I smiled as well, and sighed. Tom was not one to take orders from another—he was not evil, either. I was sure he only thirsted for knowledge, not power. You can tell how wrong I was back then.

After about an hour of searching through the books, I found the book that changed Tom Riddle forever.

"Tom! I found something. About horcruxes," I added, when he sprinted to me. Scanning the pages, I felt repulsed. He leaned against me, reading along, but a smile was painted on his face.

"Good. Very good. Thank you, Minerva," He said absently as he snatched the book from my hands.

"Y-you're not planning on making a horcrux, are you, Tom? I mean—Merlin, you're only fifteen," I said, frowning at him. He was still staring at the book with a hungry look in his eyes.

"No, no, of course not," Tom replied, distracted. Of course, this was enough for my stupid, young self.

"Well, see you tomorrow, Tom," I said, walking away. He didn't answer.

That night, I lay on my bed, trying to fall asleep. But I wondered if I had done the right thing.

* * *

It's a bit confusing, but I hope you liked it.

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	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for all the reviews! :)

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

* * *

Tom met me in the Great Hall (to my surprise), and had a pleasant smile plastered to his face. I gave him an odd look, but he dragged me away from the Gryffindor table.

"What's with you?" I asked drily; he didn't make a show of hiding his relationship with me anymore.

"Do not worry—my followers have yet to thank you for finding the Book of Horcruxes for me—their master," He told me proudly, standing up straight. I rolled my eyes.

"Great." I started to head back to the Gryffindor table, but he caught my forearm and stopped me.

"No—that's not why I wanted to talk to you, Minerva. I was wondering," He said, looking uneasy for a moment. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to Hogsmeade with me." I swore internally. Why had I said yes to Zabini before? All the same, I felt joy erupt inside me.

"Um—sorry, Tom. I already promised Zabini I would." I said in a small voice, and for the first time, I saw a blaze of anger in his eyes. I shrank back. He relaxed, but his eyes were cooler than ever.

"I see. Was that what you two were talking about that day in the library?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me. How did Tom know about that?

"I…yes." I said, and he whirled around to see a foolishly smiling Zabini behind him. Even though I would never admit it—Zabini _was_ a looker.

"Greetings, Minerva," he said, smirking at the furious expression on Tom's face. I was sure Tom was bewildered—he had never been dominated, smirked at, under anyone. But this time, Zabini had beaten him to it.

"Hello," I said quietly, and Tom looked back at me, a pleading expression on his face—wait, no; Tom didn't plead. I looked down at my feet.

"Move it, Riddle." Zabini snapped. "I've got a girl to escort to Hogsmeade, unlike you," I could see Tom struggling to keep his flaring temper.

"You will regret that one day, Zabini." He said in a dangerously calm voice. Zabini waved him off and strutted away with his arm linked around mine. I threw one last apologetic glance at Tom—smiling cautiously; he did not return it.

* * *

Zabini turned out to be rather good company—always joking and laid back; unlike Tom. I did not know which one I preferred more. As we were sitting in Three Broomsticks, drinking our Butterbeers, Zabini suddenly spoke up.

"That Riddle boy," He started, "He fancies you. A lot," I blush, and look down at the teal swirls of my drink.

"Tom? Tom…does not fancy me. I do not know if he is even capable of love," I admitted, lifting my gaze to see Zabini staring at me intensely.

"He does," Zabini insisted. "Look over there; he's staring at us right now." I wanted to tell Zabini to shut it and look away. Instead, I glanced to where Tom was sitting and saw he was indeed watching us—except there was a girl beside him; a girl that was a million times prettier than me. Platinum blond hair and grey eyes. Probably a Malfoy. Tom was not paying her any attention though, and I couldn't help but lock eyes with him. And I couldn't look away. I could hear Zabini blabbering on and on but I was still staring Tom as he was staring at me.

"Uh—Minerva! Minerva?" Zabini asked nervously, as if afraid I had slipped into a coma. I blinked, and looked up at him.

"You were saying?" And stupid, foolish Zabini did not realize that my heart already belonged to Tom Riddle, and only Tom Riddle.

"Thank you for everything, Hero." I said, being sure to use his first name. He gave me a big smile and clapped me on the back.

"You are welcome, Minerva. I'll see you later." He said, and strutted away. I sighed and turned the next corner. And saw Tom.

"Hello, Tom." I said, almost shyly. He raised his eyebrows in an exasperated way and turned to look at me.

"Hello, Minerva." He replied lazily. Tom's gaze was fixed somewhere else—I turned and saw the blond haired, grey eyed beauty waving and starting to walk towards us; I cast my gaze down. Tom hadn't been waiting for me. Why would he?

"Okay…'bye," I muttered, embarrassed, as I walked away. I could feel his gaze drilling holes in the back of my head the whole way back. Tears threatened to leak out of my eyes—though I could not understand _why_ I was feeling so upset. Maybe it was because of Tom. Maybe it wasn't.

* * *

It's a bit short, but there'll be more chapters coming up.

Thanks to all the people that've reviewed!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

Christmas holidays approached us quickly; I had been avoiding Tom for a week now. My parents sent me a letter that day, reminding me to come back for the holidays. I didn't want to—holidays at my

home were boring and uneventful, whilst holidays at Hogwarts were festive and enjoyable. I don't know what caused me to stand up to my irritating, insensitive parents; I wrote back to tell them

that I wouldn't be joining them for Christmas holidays. I had no reply back—I didn't expect to anyway. They would be happier this way; my parents only bothered to write to me to show my

grandmother they weren't the irresponsible, uncaring people they were. Most of the students had left for holidays, due to Myrtle's suspicious death—which made it far more convenient for me to

wander around the halls at forbidden hours. Only about 15 students per house stayed—including Tom Riddle. Headmaster Dippet had given me the choice of patrolling the halls or not; I chose to, but

once I discovered Tom would be as well I immediately regretted my decision. On Christmas day, I grudgingly sent Tom a pack of chocolate frogs knowing that he wouldn't eat them—his loss; but I had

a pile of useless presents at my own bedside. As I stared out at the snowy morning while the other girls squealed and shared their new accessories, I decided to go up to the roof. The view would

definitely be the most spectacular by far; although it would also be most dangerous by far.

"What are you doing?" I heard a voice as I settled down in a patch of snow on the roof. This was definitely déjà vu. Not replying at first, I gazed out at the snowy rows of trees.

"Nothing." I said, neither annoyed nor angry. I had gotten past my jealous little heartache for Tom and his Malfoy girlfriend.

"If you love watching the sky so much, you should take Divination," Tom said conversationally. I frowned.

"I'd rather take something that makes sense to me," I started, "Not after I failed thrice in a row, as well."He chuckled for a second, but then came and sat down next to me; a sincere expression on his face.

"I don't understand why you are avoiding me, Minerva." Ah. How like Tom, to get directly to the point; even if it was the most awkward topic ever. I looked up at him, and felt that rush of déjà vu pulse through me once again.

"I'm not." I said, irritated. He rolled his eyes at me, but dropped the subject. We were silent for a moment—but then I decided to break the silence. "Tom?" He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, watching me.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you ever go to back home for the holidays?" I asked curiously, watching the snow starting to drift down in large flakes.

"I…I do not have parents. I live in an orphanage," He said, looking down in shame. I touched his arm gently, in a comforting way.

"I am sorry," I apologize, and he frowns at me.

"Do not be sorry; my father was a filthy muggle, but my mother was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself." He said haughtily. I glanced at Tom now—and felt the urge to paint him. His long, thick, dark lashes had flakes of snow in them, and his usually pale skin had a pleasantly pink flush to them—it made him look more like a little boy; more human. Smiling at this, I stood up very suddenly and I had never felt more like dancing in the snow. Dragging him upwards with me, he let out a very curious laugh.

"What're you doing, Minerva?" He said, but when I took his hand in mine and started whirling around. He doubled over, laughing. Once he had finished laughing, he took my hand and whirled me around in the snow—I wanted to live in this moment forever, freeze it. But of course that could not happen. Not when I was dealing with Tom Riddle.

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	9. Chapter 9

I fail at talking like someone from the 1940's. I'm just going to stick to normal, modern day words now.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the original characters/places

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For the rest of the Christmas holidays, Tom and I were inseparable. No longer was there a façade that covered up my friendship with Tom, but we seemed to enjoy it even more now. I tried not to think about afterwards, when most of his Slytherin friends would be returning and we would act like strangers again.

"Don't you ever want power?" Tom asked, interrupting my thoughts. We were in the Room of Requirement, stretched out in front of the fire. Looking up from my essay, I frowned at him.

"Well—I guess, but not the dominating sort." I said.

"Why not the dominating sort?" He asked me, as if the answer wasn't obvious. "Why don't you want to have power over all, so they act under _your_ commands?"

"Then I wouldn't have any friends," I said lamely, momentarily surprised at his sudden outburst. Tom snorted.

"Sure, like you would care about _friends_ and _love_ when you have everything." He sneers at me.

"I care," I pointed out, and he rolled his eyes.

"Only _you_." There was a silence as we leaned down to finish up our essays for Professor Dumbledore.

"Whatever," I mumbled, wanting to steer away from the topic. Tom always wanted to talk about power and murdering all the muggle-borns on earth—if I only I had known back then.

"How was your date with Zabini?" He asked suddenly, even though it had been weeks before. I looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"Why?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"He only wants you for physical affection," Tom said, and his eyes locked with mine. Dark blue and light green. I had never been able to read his feelings with his eyes, but now I noticed a flicker of—_jealousy_? Why would he be jealous of me when he had the Malfoy girl?

"He does not," I retort, rolling my eyes. Tom shifted closer to me, our shoulders touching. Lowering my gaze, I made a show of rolling up my dried sheet of parchment. But I didn't move away.

"Minerva," He said. I didn't look up. Because maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to be stung anymore by this boy, I didn't want to be ignored when school begins again, and I didn't want to see the Malfoy and girl and him together. He comes even closer, and I feel as if the room temperature had just risen to a hundred degrees. This is the impact Tom Riddle can make on me, and I hated it. Despised it in every way. It made me feel just like any other girl that swoons over Tom. But then his lips were on mine again, and the final wall was down. Forget Zabini or the Malfoy girl. _This_ was what I wanted.

Suddenly, he pushed me down against the previously ignored loveseat, rather roughly. We kissed with a passion. A dangerous one, that made me lust after him more than anything. But when his long, slender fingers went to my blouse, I pushed him away harshly.

"Who's using who for physical affection now?" I said, more breathlessly than crudely. He did not stop—his lean, rugged body hovered inches above mine.

"Minerva. Just forget about whatever silly morals of yours and…let me." He said unkindly; even though I hesitated, I shoved him off of me.

"Well, if I forgot about my _silly_ morals, what about the Malfoy girl? What about Zabini?" I snapped, fixing my disheveled state quickly.

"What Malfoy girl?" Tom asked, confused. I stared at him.

"The…the girl…" I muttered, embarrassed that I had noticed so much about his girlfriend, and actually _compared_ myself to her once before.

"Oh, her. She'll live," He said in an extremely insincere way. I gaped at him, crossing my arms over my chest tightly; I didn't know what to do with them.

"She's your _girlfriend_, Tom. You're disgusting." I said in a not too quiet voice. He didn't seem effected by my words—but amused. As I stormed huffily out of the room, I heard him chuckle slightly.

"You didn't think I was disgusting when you were so eager to kiss me," He called to me, still stretched out across the loveseat.

"Shut _up_," I muttered under my breath, and stomped away.

* * *

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	10. Chapter 10

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews!

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

The next day, all the students came piling back into Hogwarts, much to my disliking. Unfortunately, Peeves had seen me coming out of the Room of Requirement, with an unevenly buttoned blouse and slightly swollen lips. The worst part is, he also heard Tom calling to me. And now the rumors all over the school.

"Minerva, you are _so _lucky. I can only dream about shagging Tom Riddle himself…" Elizabeth sighed to me one afternoon, and I gaped at her in disbelief.

"Eeew! I did _not_ shag Tom!" I snapped, rather immaturely.

"She didn't," A voice rang out behind me, and I whirled around. Elizabeth turned beet red, and gave Tom a big, fake smile.

"H-hello, Tom." She said, still smiling. Tom returned it, but I could also see that he was dying to spew an insult at her. Seeing this, I hurriedly dragged Tom away from Elizabeth. She glared at me.

"What do you want? You _know_ we didn't shag." I hissed at him, and he gave me a sly smile.

"Actually, I've been encouraging the rumor." He replied, and I gaped at him, anger and frustration rushing through me.

"Tom!" I exclaimed in a hushed voice, glancing around to see if any professors were around. "Please. I'm serious. Don't." Tom's lip curled into a sneer—but he wasn't looking at me. Whipping around to see where he was staring, my heart sank. Zabini. Red faced and huffing, I saw him zooming towards us with a furious expression. If I hadn't been in the situation, I would have been laughing. And since I'm a Gryffindor, it'd be out of character to hide and duck behind Tom—as much as I would have liked to.

"MINERVA!" He screeched, almost purple with anger. I glanced at Tom, but he had already melted into the gathering crowd of people.

"Um…Zabini, we _could_ take this somewhere private…" I said, casting my gaze downwards. He glared at me, unmoved by my pathetic begging.

"I'd rather not. Now all these people can see what kind of dirty, cheating scumbag you are." He said loudly, and I felt a wave of humiliation.

"I didn't shag him!" I yell, not able to contain myself. He didn't buy it—_naturally_ people would listen to the oh-so-handsome Tom Riddle, and not me. People were starting to give me dirty looks; I felt my voice shaking as Zabini rambled on about me.

"I swear I didn't." I said in a quivering voice, and ran out of the room, to the only place where I knew no one would dare go up. The roof. Up there, I couldn't help the hot tears dripping down my face. No, it wasn't because of Zabini's breaking up with me—I had never really liked him. It was because he had chosen to do it in front of all those people; and those people had _cheered_ him on. My greatest fear is to be humiliated. And _why_ couldn't Tom just keep his perfect nose in his own business?

"Are you _crying_?" I heard Tom's voice behind me, and I suddenly remembered that _he_ knew this was my favorite place, as well. Glaring at him with my red eyes, I ignored him. He wasn't sneering, or smirking, or amused anymore—in fact, he looked sincere. He came and sat down next to me, inspecting me with those prying eyes of his.

"I've never seen you cry." He told me.

"Wellcongratulations," I snap, trying to sound harsh, but my voice broke slightly. I hated this. I really did. I wanted to be known as the girl who didn't ever cry; not even when the worst things happened. I wanted to be as heartless as Tom was. But I couldn't.

"I'm not going to apologize. But you know…I encouraged the rumors for a reason." I was glad my face was buried in my arms, so he couldn't see the shock flit briefly across my expression.

"Why's that?" My voice comes out muffled, but I hear him loud and clearly.

"Maybe because I'd rather be with you than her. Not for sex," He said quietly. If this had been any other time, I would have rolled my eyes. But when I looked up into his dark, blue eyes, I didn't see that usual invisible mist that seemed to cover up his emotions. No. Instead, I saw all the emotions that he has ever tried to hide from me—everyone. Love, hate, sincerity, everything.

"I…I…" I was speechless for words. He took my face in his slender hands, looking at me intently.

"Just don't move away when I do this, alright?" I stay frozen, and he leans across to kiss me. Not the lustful way he usually did—but gently. I felt every cell in my body relax, and my arms snake around his neck, steadying myself. Of all the kisses I've shared with Tom—this was by far my favorite. I could feel the texture of his lips; soft and luscious. And right now, I don't care if he's just using me, because this feels too great for it to be wrong. When I broke apart to breathe, he arms wound around my waist and we stood there, watching each other.

"I don't get it." He said finally, when I cast my gaze downwards.

"Don't get what?" I asked. His arms seem to tense around me.

"I don't get _you_. Why do you have to come along, ruining everything? I mean—Minerva, this is a _weakness_. How could I ever go on, like this?" Tom said. I frown at him, and when I searched his temporarily readable eyes, I saw that he was serious.

"No, Tom. I'm not a weakness. I—I don't know if you love me, or if you don't, but…but I swear love isn't a weakness. And—and if you don't love me, it'll just…go away…" I said, unwillingly. I'm hoping he won't just walk away now—but instead, he pulls me closer, so that he buries his face into my hair.

"But it _is_ love, Minerva. I'm sure of it. Because…I love you," He whispers, so quietly that I don't know for sure if he meant for me to hear. And that's when I knew that Tom Riddle loved me. Because he told me so.

* * *

Haha, extremely cheesy scene. Hope you liked this chapter; there'll be more coming up. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for reviewing!

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

By the time Tom and I had returned to the Great Hall, I immediately untangled myself from his grip.

"What would your fellow Slytherins say about this?" I asked him, my lip curling slightly. He gave me a vague smile and wound his arm around my waist.

"Don't worry. If they do anything they will be punished." He said, a slight menace in his tone. I looked at him, alarmed.

"Well—don't actually _hurt _them—!" I was cut off when almost all the heads in the Great Hall swiveled in our direction. Unfriendly glares followed me all the way to the Slytherin table.

"I don't think I'm allowed to sit here, Tom." I peeped quietly, but he gave me a look and I shut up.

"Dippet's so blind he won't even see." He argues, and when we sat down at the table, there were many choruses of "Hello, Voldemort." I gave Tom a questioning look.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort, Minerva." He said, a glint in his dark eyes. I snorted, settling down next to him.

"_Lord_? Voldemort _is_ a funny name," I said nonchalantly, but Tom scowled at me.

"It's not supposed to be _funny_." He snapped, but we were interrupted by the silvery haired Malfoy girl.

"What's_ she_ doing there, Riddle? This is the Slytherin table, if you haven't noticed." She sneered at me, flipping her long, platinum hair in a way that made me jealous.

"Shut your trap, Malfoy. Do you _want_ me to perform the Cruciatus curse on you again?" He said, and I whipped around, gaping at him. Minerva gaze wildly flew from Tom to me, and she seemed to shrink back.

"_What_? _Cruciatus_ curse?" I whispered to him, in a hushed voice.

"It's nothing, Minerva. I wasn't angry enough to make it hurt a lot. If she makes me do it again, I swear, she'll regret it." He snarled under his breath.

"Tom! It's against the Wizarding laws!" I told him urgently, but I knew he would not listen. He turned to me again, eyes flashing.

"Do you think I _care_ about that, Minerva? No. I do not. Some people actually _deserve_ it. Like Lena Malfoy, for example." He said, motioning to the beautiful girl. Before I could reply, Tom was acknowledged by one of his loyal followers, and I considered what he said. It _was_ true that it only hurt terribly if you meant it. But Tom…Tom wasn't just anyone. I had seen him angry many times, and if he had performed the curse on me, I was sure to be writhing on the floor with pain. I wondered how he could perform the Unforgivables without Dumbledore or Dippet noticing. I blindly dug into my food, chewing without really tasting it, but I was really thinking about what Tom could do to _me_.

"Minerva." I heard his voice loud and clear and commanding as always, and I looked up quickly. Everyone was clearing out of the hall already, and I was still sitting there blankly.

"Oh. Alright," I said, and hurriedly got up. As we walked out of the Great Hall, Tom drew me closer to him.

"Would you join me if I ever…wanted to create an association?" Tom asked me suddenly, as we were walking through the halls.

"Depends," I replied, glancing up at him. He seemed extremely tense.

"Are you interested in the Dark Arts, Minerva?"

"No!" I exclaimed, pulling back for a moment. His expression was unreadable, but he remained silent for the rest of our walk. Once we got to the fork in the hallway, we pulled away and said our farewells. I went right. And he went left.

* * *

For the next few months, Tom and I either studied for the exams together or spent our time on the roof. Our roof. It was nearing the summer, and I couldn't even imagine what I would do without seeing Tom.

"Tom, do you think you could come over to my home for the summer?" I asked him, tilting my head.

"I don't think so. Orphanages are rather bothersome at times. I would much rather go with you," He told me, a slight edge to his voice.

"Maybe I could go to the Orphanage with you," I said, not entirely serious. Tom gave me a mean look.

"You've got to be kidding me, Minerva. That place is terrible. The meals are disgusting, and the children don't want anything to do with you, and—" He broke off, seeing my pitiful expression. He leaned close to me, so close that I could count the dark specks in his blue eyes.

"And most of all, I don't want your pity." He said. I shrugged, and I inched away from him uncomfortably. He gave a slight chuckle under his breath.

"It's strange, Minerva. How we've known each other for _years_ and I still manage to unnerve you." He said proudly, and I blushed red.

"W-well, you don't really," I lied, but he wasn't listening. Whirling around, Apollyon Pringle, our nasty, unpleasant caretaker stood there, cackling.

"Little love birds you two are, aren't you? Well, you're coming with me. To Headmaster Dippet. No student is allowed up here, you disgusting, vulgar, ugly little children."

"I'm a sixth year." I snapped, unable to contain myself. He paid me no attention and grabbed our arms roughly.

"You're coming with me," He repeated. Cursing under my breath, Pringle led us to the Headmasters' office and stomped in triumphantly.

"Ah. Apollyon, what is this?" Dippet asked, observing us in a rather weary way.

"These two lovers have decided to take their whereabouts onto the roof, Headmaster. The two deserve a nasty punishment, if you ask me." He added hastily, when Dippet sighed.

"Of course, Apollyon. If you'd excuse us," He said, motioning to the stairs. Pringle marched away with a rather superior look on his greasy face.

"Sit." Dippet motioned to both of us, frowning. We sat. "I don't want to hear why you were on the roof. I just want to remind you that there is a _killer_ loose in the castle, something that can kill you very easily." I heard Tom give a light snort, but Dippet hadn't heard.

"Yes, Headmaster." I said.

"I'm much too busy with all this Ministry business to sort you two out. I'd rather not organize anything, since anyone could attack at any minute." He muttered to himself, and excused us.

"_Well_. That was close," I said, but Tom was scowling.

"I could have cursed that man, I swear." He hissed, and I gripped him tightly.

"What are you talking about, Tom? There's a consequence to disobeying the rules, even you know that." I told him sternly, rolling my eyes.

"Whatever." He walked away quickly, wrapping an arm around me and dragging me away like he always did. When we got to the library, he lowered his voice.

"Minerva. You know when you found the Book of Horcruxes for me?" I nodded faintly, afraid of what was coming next. "Well. It allows you to live for a very long time, as long as no one destroys each horcrux. Once I leave Hogwarts, I plan on making plenty. And I want you to, as well." He said this all very quickly, but I knew what he meant.

"No." I said, and I didn't recognize my own voice. Something flickered in his eyes. Anger.

"We could live forever, Minerva. Together." The idea sounded very tempting, but I could not imagine ripping my soul into pieces for my own sake. You needed to _kill_ someone to do so.

"What about the others? The people that died because of us," I said in a small voice, and he gave me an annoyed look.

"Who _cares_, Minerva? They're just random, useless scumbags that have no class in life whatsoever. I just want you to wait for me. When you've graduated, I still have two more years." I stared down at the lines in the table distractedly—but he touched my cheek gently, and I felt myself melting.

"Please. I couldn't do it without you." He murmured, lowering his eyes to stare me down. I buried my face into my hands, unable to decide.

"You would move on after I've died, Tom. And then…and then you could find a new partner, and…" The idea was so terrifyingly painful for me that I didn't continue.

"But I want _you_, Minerva. You—and no one else. It'd be like that forever." He insisted, and I nodded, a tear dripping down my cheek.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow," He said, kissing me gently before setting of for the dungeons. And I sat there, like an idiot. I did not know what I had just gotten myself in.


	12. Chapter 12

This is a really short chapter; it's just Tom and Minerva saying goodbye. I didn't want to continue writing about Minerva's sixth year too much, because I still have a lot of chapters coming up :)

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

* * *

The summer holidays came too quickly for my liking—I couldn't stand not being able to see Tom for a few months. We had stayed attached to each other ever since I had promised to make that Horcrux with him.

"Did Dippet agree to let you stay?" I asked. Tom and I were sitting by the lake, skipping rocks into the water, hoping the Giant Squid would show up and destroy the train awaiting us.

"No." His answer was short and curt, and I looked away from him to the vast stretch of water. There was a silence for a moment, as we stretched out and watched the other students duel in the courtyards and the way the lake would drift about as if in a dance for one last time.

"I hate it back at home." I said, finally. Tom glanced at me in surprise.

"I'd think you were one of those children that had everything they wanted." He admitted, throwing a particularly large rock into the water.

"No. Well, yes. But money can't buy happiness, you see. My family—they don't care about me. If I'd died, they would have only made a show of everything, but honestly, they'd be glad to be rid of me." I told him.

"Sounds like my father. But then again, my poor mother died after bearing me, and he ran off. A coward," He added angrily.

"Yes. Well, we'd better get going now." I said, holding out a hand for him to take. He ignored me and stood up himself.

"I don't like it when people attempt to help, Minerva. You of all people should know that." Tom said in a defiant way, and I shrugged, sticking my hands into my pockets. We trudged up to the train, where our entire luggage had already been loaded.

"Want to join us?" Tom asked, but I shook my head. As much as I wanted to stay with Tom as long as possible, I just couldn't stand the Slytherins. He seemed to have already known I would say no.

"Well…goodbye. There's a good chance I won't be seeing you afterwards, so…" I said awkwardly, but he surprised me by pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Good bye," He muttered in my ear, and we broke apart only because the lady with the trolley had just arrived in the hallway.

"Write to me every day. I'll send an owl." I told him, feeling the familiar prick of tears starting to form. "I wish you could escape your orphanage, Tom. I _need_ someone with me, I—I can't stand them!" I cried. He gave me a sad smile and shrugged.

"I will." I returned the smile and walked away to join the other Gryffindors. Casting one last fleeting glance over my shoulder, I saw that he was still standing there, a dark look marring his handsome face.

"Hullo, Minerva." I heard the dull voice of my mother say as soon as I stepped off the train. But I wasn't paying attention. I was searching the crowds of people, trying to find Tom's mop of dark hair, but I couldn't see him anywhere.

"Oh. Hello, Mother." I replied in an equally bored voice.

"Well, hurry up. We need to apparate back home quickly. I have tea with Mrs. Twycross later," She told me, and I gripped her arm tightly, secretly reveling of the idea of crushing her arm in my fingers. The familiar feeling of apparition took over, and I closed my eyes for a minute before stumbling into my cold, familiar home. My mother left me as soon as we arrived, and I dashed up the stairs to the only place in the mansion that I could withstand. The first thing I did was tear out a piece of parchment and write to Tom. And then, I collapsed onto my bed, wondering how I would be able to survive the summer holidays.

* * *

Hope you liked it!

Thanks for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

Okay. This chapter officially sucks. I have a horrid case of writer's block.

Disclaimer: noooooooooo copyright infringement intended.

* * *

For the rest of the summer holidays, I stayed in my room and wrote to Tom for the whole time. My parents ignored me, my sisters laughed at me, and my brother was too busy to even look at me. I never missed Hogwarts more—but most of all, Tom. And when the Hogwarts letter came to me one Saturday evening, I almost jumped out the window with happiness. I had been made Head Girl as well. So long, cold and unbearable mansion. So long, oblivious family. Here I come, Hogwarts.

Once my father apparated to King's Cross, I gave a quick goodbye and sped towards Platform 9¾. As I climbed aboard the train, I hoped I would meet Tom. Unfortunately, I needed to get to the Prefect's compartment first.

"Here comes the new Head Girl," I heard someone say snidely, and there was mocking applause. "You're late." I blushed red, but sat down obediently.

"Er—yes, but I wasn't—" I was cut off by the boy again, and I scowled at him.

"Anyway. Since you all were made prefect last year, I'll assume you know what you need to do. Head Girl and Head Boy will be sharing the same common room, but different single dorms." I cursed internally, wondering who would be the Head Boy. Sharing was not my favorite thing to do.

"And how do you know all this?" I recognized the girl as Lena Malfoy, Tom's previous romantic interest.

"Because that's what Dippet told me, you ugly twat." I suddenly felt a great wave of admiration for the boy. He was in my year—a Ravenclaw, probably, but I had never known him personally.

"I'm here now," All the heads in the compartment swiveled to the entrance, and I caught my breath. Standing there was probably the closest thing to perfection. I could see all the girls were unable to tear their gaze away from him, and I quickly looked down.

"You're _late_," Unknown Ravenclaw greeted him with the same unfriendly gesture as he had to me.

"Hello, I'm Lena Malfoy," Malfoy said, flashing her ultra white teeth at him. He returned it, and I cast my gaze down. He was nothing compared to Tom, I realized. Nothing.

"Hello," The perfect boy said to Lena, but took a seat next to me. I shifted away involuntarily. He didn't seem to notice.

"What year are you in?" Malfoy asked, throwing back her sheet of silvery hair.

"I'm in my Seventh year. Head boy," He answered her, with a flash of his own teeth. I felt myself stiffen. _What_?

"Oh, that's too bad. You'll have to watch out for McGonagall, she's real bothersome." Lena replied nonchalantly. I glared at her.

"I'm not bothersome," I said, scowling.

"She _cheated_ on her boyfriend, and stole _my_ boyfriend last year," Malfoy said in an astounded whisper to the perfect boy.

"Oh, um…" He seemed extremely uncomfortable, and I buried my face into my knees. I wanted to see Tom. _Right now_.

"Well, get out of here. The meetings over." The Unknown Ravenclaw snapped, and I scooted off immediately. I saw Malfoy crawling over the boy as she scooted up to him and giggled. Rolling my eyes, I walked out of the compartment. Lean, familiar arms closed around my waist, dragging me into the darkness, and I let out a gasp. Whirling around, I saw Tom's familiar…beautiful face.

"Tom!" I squealed, wrapping my arms around him. He had grown taller, still. "How are you, Tom?"

"Never better. It's just awfully saddening how you're leaving this year." Tom replied, and I shrugged, still smiling.

"Who cares? We still have a year," I said brightly, but he was frowning.

"A year goes by quickly, Minerva." But instead of arguing, he leaned down and hovered over me. "May I?" Rolling my eyes, I stood on tip toe and kissed him instead.

"Great. I missed that." I muttered, mostly to myself. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to him closer still.

"What are you going to do after you graduate from Hogwarts?" Tom asked, looking extremely worried.

"Why does it matter? I want to be a professor at Hogwarts," I replied, and he frowned at me.

"That would mean being near Dumbledore. Dumbledore's got his eye on me, I swear." He said, but then his face lit up. "You could pass information to me! It would be like having an undercover source at your service!"

"I'm _not_ doing anything like that, Tom." I hissed, but he ignored me.

"You already promised to make a horcrux. All I have to do is…" He leaned close to me, eyes fluttering lazily. I had the urge to push him away, but then…his whole essence is so—so unbearable. The way his skin radiates heat, his dark, blue eyes…but I pushed him away. My body was begging to be near him again, but my mind refused.

"No, Tom! Dumbledore's great, he really is. You and the Slytherins are the only ones who don't like him!" I exclaimed, my breathing rugged. He let out a laugh at my disheveled appearance.

"I _know_ you want to, Minerva. I do," Tom murmured, placing a cool hand onto my cheek. It felt like he really meant it when he looked into my eyes, and he leaned down to kiss me again….

"Sorry!" A voice exclaimed, and Tom's eyes flashed murderously as he looked up. The perfect boy. This boy seemed to be missing quite a few of brain cells—Tom and I were in the shadows, yes; but you could easily see that we were here from a couple yards away.

"Oh…um…" I said awkwardly, but Tom wrapped an arm around my waist, drawing me closer.

"Who're you?" Tom asked, in a sudden voice. The perfect boy crossed his arms over his chest in an equally threatening position.

"Vincent Clearwater." He snapped, and I decided to speak up.

"Head boy, right? I'm Head Girl." I smiled at Vincent, much to Tom's dislike. Holding out my hand for him to shake, I felt Tom's grip tighten still. I glared up at him.

"Oh. I know who you are, already. Minerva McGonagall?" He asked, giving me a friendly shake. I nodded, and turned back to Tom. He was staring at Vincent's retreating figure coldly.

"There's something wrong with him, I know this much." Tom snarled, and I cringed back.

"He only accidentally interrupted us, Tom. It's fine," I insisted. "Why are you always talking about horcruxes and undercover rubbish? What are you even planning?" He shifted his gaze to me, and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't tell you. At least not here," He said nonchalantly, and I scowled at him. Tossing my hair back in a very Malfoy way, I crossed my arms.

"You better, Tom. If you don't, I'll...I'll…" Trailing off, I saw the amused expression on his face, and I tore my arm out of his grip.

'You'll kiss me with a passion you didn't know you possessed?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. The corners of his lips were already twitching, and I growled.

"You're impossible, Tom." As much as I hated to, I tried to head the other way, but he grabbed my arm again.

"Let's just go into the Great Hall. Together," He begged—no, Tom didn't beg—the closest thing to begging, then.

"Alright," I sighed, giving in. Linking my arm with his, we got off the train and set off together.

* * *

Anyway...reviews? :)

Thanks


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for the reviews. And unreademail, mind if I ask you why my writing is like a five year olds?

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

"Can I come with you?" Tom asked from behind me, as I climbed through the portrait. I turned around, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, I suppose so. It _is_ the Head's common room, but…" He brushed past me and stepped into the Heads' common room.

"My, my. Isn't this spacious," He muttered, observing the room with discrete eyes. I frowned at the room, much preferring the Gryffindor common room.

"It's not for us, Tom. It's where we hold the meetings," I explained. "Why weren't you in the Prefect's compartment before? Aren't you a prefect?"

"Yes. I went before you," He said vaguely, watching the flickering flames.

"Oh…" I trailed off, watching Tom. Tom was much more intriguing than the flames…his dark eyebrows, his prominent jaw line…

"What?" I jumped a little, looking up to see his amused expression. I blushed.

"Nothing." I snapped, annoyed with myself. He rose from his spot swiftly, pushing me against the cool wall.

"Is that so?" He smiled widely, but before I could do anything, he kissed me. I missed this. Needed it, even. It was the first real kiss in a very long time, and by the time I resurfaced I was breathing hard. The portrait swung open again, and I whirled around. _Ugh_. Vincent Clearwater. I started to feel a prick of annoyance, and I could tell Tom was bothered, as well.

"Oh! Sorry," He exclaimed, noticing us. "You two are kissing every time I look at you," I turned scarlet—Tom scowled.

"Don't look at us, then." He spat.

"Yes, but you're in my common room. You're not even supposed to be in here." Vincent said, and I felt a wave of dislike for the otherwise friendly boy.

"Oh, um…" Tom's dark eyes did not leave Vincent's, but he stepped away from me and out of the portrait.

"I'm sorry. But it's true, and since you're Head Girl, I'd assume you'd want to be on top of things instead of breaking rules with Riddle," He apologized, smiling his perfect smile. Knowing he was right, I merely shrugged.

"I guess," I muttered, starting towards the portrait.

"Wait, Minerva," Vincent called after me, and I paused, looking back. "We sleep in here, not in our House dormitories,"

"Oh…yes, I know that," I said, getting extremely annoyed. I wanted to see _Tom_, not Vincent babbling on and on. He may have a perfect face—yes, but he had the most annoying, obsessive personality. Sprinting out as quickly as I could to avoid any other confrontations, I saw Tom by the foot of the Grand Staircase.

"Oh, hello, Miss McGonagall." A deeper, older voice sounded from behind me, and I whirled around. Dumbledore.

"Hello, Professor," I said, running a hand through my hair and glancing towards Tom.

"I'd like you to come to my office. It's rather urgent, so I'd prefer you to come immediately," He said, noticing my brief glance.

"Alright," I muttered. With another glance at Tom, I grudgingly turned away and followed Dumbledore.

"I know it's the start of the year, and you want to be with Mr. Riddle as much as possible," Dumbledore said, sympathetically. I shrugged.

"Yeah, so?" I said, glaring at him. He didn't seem to notice my rude gesture.

"So, Miss McGonagall. Is there anything you'd like to tell me about Mr. Riddle? I ensure you; I _do_ know what has been going on between you two, and if I were you, I'd end the relationship now, and never go back to him," He said this all very fast—it was unusual for Dumbledore to be so worried.

"He's not bad." My voice came out stronger than I had expected. Dumbledore swiftly looked me in the eye, a murderous glint in his piercing, blue eyes.

"I beg to differ, Miss McGonagall. He has a massive interest in the Dark Arts. He is a _disturbed_ young man." Fury was building up in my chest.

"You _infer_ too many things, Professor. Tom still has a chance to become a good person, you know. You have no idea how much you sound like the Ministry. And as for ending the relationship, you know I can't. I can't just walk away, I—I _love_ him," I said in a whisper, and it felt awkward to be confessing this to Dumbledore. He only nodded understandingly, a grave look on his face.

"I apologize. You are ever so correct, but Tom Riddle…is no usual boy. I would advise you to be careful, if you refuse to listen to me." I nodded, standing up.

"May I go, Professor?" I asked him, staring at the blank wall behind him.

"Yes. But Miss McGonagall…please do not inform Mr. Riddle of this meeting," He said, giving me an oddly stiff smile. I nodded once, and broke into a run once outside the office. Not because I wanted to get away from the office. But because, for one—Dumbledore was right. Two—he was indeed a dangerous person. Three—I had never loved anyone else more.

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Dumbledore _is_ getting kind of annoying...:)


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the support!

And I will think about the story as ladder. :)

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

Here I am again. Sitting on the roof of Hogwarts with Tom—even though I _am_ a Head Girl. I can't help but wonder if Dumbledore was right; if Tom, despite his beauty and alluring personality, was a monster underneath. I gripped my hands together tightly. If he _was_…what would I do? Would I follow in his wake, or would I be on the good side? My head was starting to hurt from all this thinking. _But what would you do_?

"What are you thinking about?" Tom's voice suddenly asked, and I looked over at him gazing at me with an expression of genuine…love.

"I…I don't know," I said lamely, and I could tell he didn't believe me. Thankfully, he dropped the subject when snowflakes started to fall. Smiling despite myself, I glanced at Tom.

"Wow. It's already snowing. But then again, it _is_ November," Tom said, "Remember when I said that a year goes by quickly? It's already _November_, Minerva." My stomach plummeted when I realized he was right. The past month had gone by so quickly it felt like only a week.

"It's snowing. Snow is happy," I said quietly. He snorted, but remained silent when I shot him a glare.

"I _would_ ask you to dance…" Tom trailed off, his eyes lazily boring into mine. I felt my heart speed up. "_But_, since this may be our last time, I'd rather…" I closed my eyes as his cool lips pressed against mine again, and I felt that sweet, nurturing feeling overcome me again. _Last time…Last time_…his voice echoed in my head, and I suddenly felt as light as a feather. I knew this wouldn't be the last time I'd see him—I knew that, of course. But it would be different when we grew up, went our separate roads. And the thought of him marrying another woman made me sick. It made me want to throw myself off the roof, or burn myself to death for the pain of it. I broke away for a moment, and stood up.

"One last time, please." I whispered, and he stood up without comment. And we danced, as the snow fell down quietly, flakes melting in our touches.

"If you do become a professor, Minerva," He said suddenly, "That would be good. Because I'd know where to find you, if I ever need you." I smiled into his robes, wondering if I would start crying, because I sure felt like doing so.

"Feeling sentimental, Tom?" I clasped my hands around him tightly.

"I don't know, Minerva. It just feels…like this is the last time for everything, you know?" He said, and I buried my face into him, his whole being, feeling _him_.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Suddenly, as he leaned down to kiss me once more, a clatter of footsteps interrupted us. Damn caretaker.

"If you first years are up there again, I'll come and tear your heads off!" Pringle howled, and I grabbed Tom's arm.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered, and he motioned for me to hurry. I climbed down until I felt the glass of a window, and let myself in. Tom followed me in.

"Where _are_ we?" This was not the room that we usually came too—it was a room filled with paintings—paintings of a thin, entirely white skinned man with red eyes. And there was an old woman as well—even though age had gotten to her, her face still shone with beauty and youth. And then there was the red eyed man again, kneeling over a Pensieve, his face shining with tears and his expression shadowed with sadness. The pictures had a haunting feeling to them, and I shivered against Tom. I quietly stepped away from Tom; the portraits seemed to tell a story, almost. A woman with curly black hair with the red eyed man, her eyes insanely hungry. A baby boy with raven black hair and a flash of green light and…and me.

In amazement, I traced the dark, shaded out figure beside me, and I, in a big, fancy, white wedding dress. It was a dress that I had seen before, and hated. It had been the wedding dress my Mother used to marry my Father, and look how that turned out.

"Tom!" I called, my voice tense. He turned around, eyes flashing in the darkness, until he found where I was standing.

"What the…" His voice trailed off, and he stared at the picture hard. "Why are you painted on here, Minerva? And…and who is…that…" A saw shock flit across his face. Because he too, knew it was not him that I would be married to.

"What do these portraits mean, Tom? I don't…I don't understand," I cried, the faces of the people suddenly haunting.

"Let's get out of here," He muttered, and led me to the door rapidly. When we let ourselves out, we were so shocked, that we hadn't noticed Dumbledore standing by.

"Oh! Professor Dumbledore," I exclaimed. He only smiled. Not a mean, mocking one. Just a smile.

"What is it that I am missing? Why are you two so breathless?" He asked. I gestured towards the door in a wild motion.

"There's a…picture, of me. I don't know why it's there, but there are…odd pictures," I panted, and Dumbledore strided in swiftly. Minutes later, he came out again.

"There's nothing there. Only a massive library filled with books." He said, frowning at the door. "I'd advise you two to go off to bed. I'll let you off this time, but _only_ this time." I exchanged a look with Tom and we both set off to our dormitories. All night, I dreamed about the darkly shaded man, and the portraits of people in fear as the pale, white-skinned man held out his wand…a green flash…and…_nothing_.

* * *

You may not realize, but they were in the Room of Requirement. They climbed in through a window on the Seventh Floor. Both Minerva and Tom were thinking about their futures, so...

Hope you liked it!


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, I barely even saw Tom. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't because of that night with the paintings—but because I was busy with the Heads' duties. The portraits were so haunting and wrong, that I couldn't even look at Tom without feeling immense discomfort.

"I never really see you with Riddle anymore," Vincent commented, as we walked up to the Owlery together. I shrugged, wanting to steer away from the topic.

"I'm busy. He's busy." I said simply. We reached the Owlery in silence, but I let out a little gasp of surprise when I noticed him standing there. Tom. I knew I would bump into him sooner or later, but I felt like sprinting out the door at once.

"Hello, Minerva," He greeted me stiffly. He nodded at Vincent.

"Hullo…Tom." I muttered, casting my gaze downwards. I grabbed the letter in my pocket roughly and stuffed it into a school owl's beak. It tried to bite me.

"Yes, so…do you mind if I speak to you for a moment? In private?" Tom added, raising an eyebrow. I nodded stupidly. Vincent scowled, but stepped out after I glared at him.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm not going to ask why you're avoiding me—I'd think it was pretty obvious. But honestly, I've worked out what those…_portraits_ meant, and….and I think we'd be better off as…" He trailed off, his gaze on me. "Nothing more than mere acquaintances." And I couldn't cry. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't. Because he was breaking up with me, and I couldn't show weakness. I felt a heavy lump in my throat.

"I…don't understand," I breathed, avoiding his gaze carefully. _Not even friends_.

"It's not like I don't want to be with you, Minerva. But that portrait…I mean, you're not going to end up with me, anyways." He said, bitterly.

"What do you mean? What do those paintings mean?" I asked him sharply, turning away for a moment. I knew what they meant now, but the thought of being with someone else that was not Tom—it made me want to kill myself on the spot. The thought that maybe I was wrong, for once. Maybe it was a whole different idea. But why did it matter, anymore? He had already broken it off.

"I think you know already."

And then I felt those familiar, lean arms of his embracing my suddenly frail body—and I wanted to freeze this moment again, forever. Staying youthful and happy for always. But the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Goodbye, Minerva." He whispered, and then walked away, out of the Owlery. Before I knew what I was doing, I ran out to Vincent and threw my arms around his neck, the tears that I had withheld pouring out. Not that I cared _who_ it was—I just needed someone to be a comfort to me.

"What—are you alright, Minerva?" Vincent asked, his voice quavering slightly. I didn't say anything. "Er—let's go over to the water, shall we? There's no one there." He wound an arm around my waist. I shut my eyelids tight. The feeling was so familiar, that I suddenly saw Tom instead of the pretty boy face, Tom's ruggedness instead of his gentle touches. When I opened my eyes again, we were sitting on the gravelly rocks of the lake.

"Did he hurt you, Minerva?" He asked, his green eyes searching my face. I buried my face into my hands.

"No…nothing like that. He just…we're not…I don't know!" I couldn't say it, because it was too painful to say—because I didn't want to believe it.

"You're not together anymore?" Vincent's voice was protruding, but gentle. I removed my hands slowly and nodded once.

"Yes…not even friends, Vincent. He wants to _forget_ me," I whispered. Vincent said nothing. The sun was starting to set now.

"We should go back. We need to do rounds, after all." I held onto Vincent all the way back to the castle, but I let go once we walked into the Great Hall.

"I'll do Gryffindor and Slytherin," I said tonelessly, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them. _You want something from Slytherin_. Vincent hesitated visibly, but then nodded.

"And I'll do Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

* * *

I wasn't really paying attention to anything, just watching the places Tom and I had spent so much time together. The stairs leading up to the roof—I had been right about the last time Tom and I would be up there, with no troubles. If only I hadn't chose that window, than we would still be together right now. A scampering sound of shoes on stone awoke me to my senses. I looked around. A first year Slytherin was crouched behind a suit of armor. When I approached him, he glared up at me with great dislike.

"Don't look at me like that—it's not my fault you have no skills with sneaking around," I snapped, and he looked up at me in surprise. Respect, even. We reached the Slytherin common room, but the big, blank wall stood there, unmoving.

"I...I think I forgot the password," He muttered, casting his gaze down. I snorted. Just then, the wall revealed a grand passage, and Tom stepped out. Oh, _Tom_. I stopped myself from staring at his face, and instead watched the dark grey walls of the chamber.

"I'll have to take ten points from Slytherin," I said, my voice on the verge of spilling with emotion. Tom nodded, and pushed the little boy in. I forced myself to turn away from Tom. Forced myself to start walking back to the Heads' dormitories again.

"Wait! Minerva," Tom called out, suddenly. I turned around, slowly.

"Yes?" My voice sounded so formal—so unlike our usual greetings. I stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Er—nothing, actually. Sorry." He was uncomfortable, I could tell. I turned away again, walking back up. I was hoping he would call me back again. But then again, I had always set my hopes too high. Because he never did.

* * *

Muahahaha. I broke them up, for good. But there's still more...

Reviews?


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

"I'm going to be training as an Auror this summer. Have you got any idea what you want to do?" Vincent asked. We were sitting under a tree, filling out the last pieces of homework we'd ever receive.

"I'll come with you," I said, glancing up at him. His perfect face broke into a broad smile.

"I thought you wanted to be a Hogwarts Professor, though." He said. I shook my head—maybe I'd do it later, but becoming a Hogwarts teacher would mean living at the place where Tom and I once kissed, stood, and danced.

"No. That was just a childish dream of mine," I lied. "Besides, I _do_ have top marks, so why waste it on being a mere professor?"

"You would have more protection, here. And…if anything ever happens…you'd be safe." He muttered, awkwardly glancing down at me. I laughed.

"And you'd care because…" I trailed off, noticing the unfamiliar glint in his eyes.

"I _like_ you, Minerva. A lot," Vincent admitted it, meeting my eyes firmly. I couldn't help but think…did I really prefer Vincent over Tom? Quickly ignoring the remark, I smiled at Vincent.

"I—I like you too, Vincent." I said. Just then, I noticed Tom and his group of Slytherins was sitting by the steps of the castle. A sharp pang struck my stomach, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. He noticed a pair of eyes on him, and he looked up sharply. But when his met mine, it visibly softened. I forced myself to look back to Vincent. Dark blue or light blue. It was simple.

"I mean… I like you more than that, you know? Like, maybe even _love_." He said, but now his tone was serious. I was speechless. I could stay by Vincent—a good looking, hardworking, and intelligent man—or go back to Tom. Tom and his…perfection.

"Me too," I said softly. It was too late now. I had chosen my way, and Tom had chosen his.

* * *

"Minerva!" I heard a voice calling after me as I was about to board the train to London, with Vincent. Turning around, I saw Tom walking towards me. I felt my heart race, and I was angry with myself that I was still infatuated with Tom.

"Oh…hello, Tom." I tried to keep my voice toneless, but it broke at the end. I almost slapped myself for it.

"Minerva…you're not going to work at the Ministry, are you?" He asked, nodding towards the train.

"I am. As an Auror," I added, when he looked at me questioningly.

"Ah," He caught my eye, but I looked downwards quickly. "Yes, so…this is a goodbye, then?" A lump was forming in my throat, and I all I could do was nod.

"Bye," I managed to choke out, before I climbed aboard. The train was starting to move slowly. Tom suddenly grabbed my arm.

"One last time…" He murmured, embracing me in a way that no other could. And before I could stop myself, I was wrapping my arms around him as well, taking in his smell…one last time. We broke apart far sooner than I would have liked, but I had Vincent and he had…whoever he had. I stepped onto the train quickly as it picked up speed, and he stood there, gazing at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Then, I turned around and there was Vincent, with his friendly, stupid smile. I opened my arms for him, and he embraced me as well. It was not the same feeling.

"We're going to be the best Aurors ever," He whispered, and I looked back at Tom through the window.

* * *

"McGonagall, Minerva." My name was called by an odd looking man with a magical eye in his eye socket.

"Here," I called out, and he pointed down the hall, his eye swiveling around wildly. The man was fairly young—probably in his early 30's.

"Training as an Auror, eh?" He asked, as I passed him. I turned around nervously.

"Er—yes, I am." I said. He observed me doubtfully.

"Are ya sure it's the right job for you, McGonagall? Seems a bit harsh on a person like you." He commented. I scowled at him.

"I don't care what you think," I snapped, and he shrugged, a smile tugging at his scarred lips. Storming down the hall into the door, I slammed it shut once I was in. I blushed red when all eyes turned to me.

"Good morning, Miss McGonagall." A witch with an extremely pointed nose glanced at me with beady eyes.

"Good morning," I muttered. She then started on the basics of training as an Auror. The material was much harder than Hogwarts, and I wasn't sure if this was the right job for me.

"Destroying horcruxes...defeating advanced dark wizards…" I muttered, reading the sheet of parchment in front of me. All the things that I had planned to do with Tom. I could stop him right now—arrest him, even, because he had revealed his secret plans to me. But I couldn't do it. It was entirely my fault that Lord Voldemort rose to power.

* * *

The story's nearly over...

Reviews?


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for all ther reviews!

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

"Oh Minerva, I'm so happy for you!" I heard the delighted squeal of Elizabeth Brown, and I looked up, smiling.

"Thank you. It means a lot that you could make it today." I said. Elizabeth settled down beside me and observed the rose that I was cutting.

"So, Vincent it is, eh? Forgive me—but I'd have thought you and Tom would be here together, not…" She trailed off, noticing the aggravated expression I was wearing. I couldn't help thinking she could be right, though—Tom and his absurd personality—his smell, his touch…

"No," I said quietly. I almost slapped myself; I was about to marry Vincent Clearwater, and I was still thinking in a way that could never be acceptable. "Tom…he is…nothing, compared to Vincent." I muttered. It's more like the other way around.

"Oh. Well, you're a lucky girl, Minerva. Two of the best looking men at your mercy." She said, sighing as if she wished she was in my position. Stupid girl. I forced a laugh, my hands shaking slightly.

"I don't know about Tom, Elizabeth…besides—I have Vincent," I said truthfully. I couldn't imagine Tom ever being at anyone's mercy. Elizabeth stood up.

"Well, I need to go back to the food now, if you don't mind. Anyways, congratulations!" She called, as she strutted back to the lobby. My parents came in next. My mother was dressed up in a sophisticated looking pencil skirt, and my father in his grave looking suit.

"Congratulations, Minerva. It is an honor that you have chosen a pureblood Clearwater." My mother said, and I could not help but snap at her.

"Blood does not _matter_, Mother. It does not make a person better or worse!" I hissed. For example, I'll use my father and mother. There can't be two more insensitive people on earth, but hey—they're pureblood. My mother scowled at me, but my father let out a nervous laugh.

"Ah, yes, Minerva. But still—it _is_ important, you see. The society wants…pure things, not filth." He said. I bit my tongue.

"Yes, well, good thing I'm marrying Vincent, right?" I asked sarcastically, but my parents didn't catch on.

"Yes, Minerva. We want you to be _happy_, darling. Not some unmarried tramp that goes begging for attention," She added. I frowned.

"There are many great people that never had a love life, mother." I said quietly. She paid me no attention, and adjusted a pin in her hair.

"Alright, Minerva. Good luck," She said, and walked with my father. I glanced at the ticking clock on the wall—just a few hours left. I was glad that I wouldn't have any more visitors. I stripped down and took a shower, feeling the hot water sooth over my skin. I stepped out and dried myself while staring at the wedding dress draped over the chair. I had insisted that no one would help me put on the dress—I liked to do things by myself, and not be fussed over. Thankfully, it wasn't full of zippers or buttons or any odd things, so I slipped into it easily. I hated being traditional—but it would have been disastrous to have allowed me to do my own makeup and hair. A tall, slender muggle woman came to my room with a gigantic collection of makeup. Feeling disgruntled while she brushed back my hair and pasted my face with goo, I didn't realize that once she was done, I never looked better. Half of my hair had been weaved with tiny white flowers embedded in it gracefully, while the other half was sprawled down my back.

"You're good with those. Thank you," I said, handing her all the muggle money I had, unsure of what it was worth. She gasped when looked down.

"Five hundred dollars? Dear god," She breathed. "Thank you so much," I smiled unsurely, watching her hyperventilate. Maybe I had given her too much.

Thankful that I had another hour before the dreaded wedding, I leaned back nervously, continuously glancing at the clock. I jumped when someone knocked at the door, and I stood up hurriedly, almost tripping over the hem of my dress. At least it wasn't one of those poofy dresses that were designed for graceful people only. I opened the door. And…

_Tom_.

I almost melted in his presence. He looked gorgeous with his entirely white button up, green tie, and black vest. Maybe even better than the groom, but how was I supposed to know? I had no idea Tom would be here—Vincent and I had invited him, of course. But I never supposed he would even bother to come.

"Tom!" I spluttered, after staring at him for longer than necessary. Before I could stop myself, I embraced him. That feeling again. That damned feeling. It made me feel like I was flying over the mountains, happier than ever…I broke away from him, suddenly realizing that I was hugging him romantically when I had a wedding to attend to in less than thirty minutes. I blushed.

"You look beautiful," He murmured, apparently unaffected by my affectionate greeting. Growing even pinker by the second, I ushered him in.

"Um—thank you, Tom. I had no idea you would be here," I confessed. He smiled vaguely, and took a seat on the couch.

"Forgive me—but I'm definitely not staying. I'm sorry." He added, when he saw my face fall. "I just wanted to…Minerva, are you _sure_ you're doing the right thing? I mean, you're only twenty one…" I looked down at my clasped hands.

"Yes, I'm sure. Vincent has been…good to me." I said, but I knew Tom was right. I was only twenty one. There was plenty of time to break off the wedding, and go back to Tom, and…and be hurt all over again. I shook my head roughly.

"Alright, Minerva. I just thought…I mean…I'm going to Albania, you see? I wanted you to come with me." He said, and I gasped.

"What were you thinking? Honestly, Tom! I'm getting _married_, did you—did you think you could tear me away from Vincent, or—!" I broke off, feeling my eyes prick with the danger of tears. I quickly blinked them back, hoping I wouldn't ruin my makeup. The worst part was…I _wanted_ to go with Tom. He had known I had never really stopped loving him.

"Why, though?" He asked, a painful expression etched on his face.

"I…I don't know. Maybe because _Vincent_ never left me, never…never let me go, never hurt me, and always promised to protect me," I whispered. He frowned at me, leaning back again and crossing his arms.

"I never knew you were the type of girl to want protection, Minerva." He sneered at me, obviously angered by my answer.

"I can't, even if I wanted to. I would hurt Vincent so much, and…the embarrassment of it all. They'd hate me forever," I told him, exasperated.

"That's selfish," Tom said quietly. I snapped my head up, scowling. And when was Tom Riddle the most selfless person on earth? _Never_.

"I know it is. I'm a genuinely selfish person, alright? Your point is proven," I hissed, but he merely leaned in extremely close to me. So close that our noses were almost touching. I would have pulled away—but I couldn't. Tom placed a cool hand on my cheek.

"I know. I know I made a mistake. I will never apologize to you for it, you know I can't. I just _don't_ apologize, Minerva." His voice sounded pained. "But…I love you, okay? Just remember that. If you ever want to find me…just…" He broke off again. "Of course you wouldn't. I…I'll find you if you ever get a job at Hogwarts. Trust me, I'll know. I'll find you." And then he disappeared, the echo of his words still hanging in the space that had just been in front of me. I felt dazed—I wondered if that had really happened, or whether I was only hallucinating. Different footsteps came stomping to the door, now yelling for me to get out. I sprang up and walked out, to be met by the smiling faces of my relatives. I couldn't break it off—not now.

* * *

Reviews?


	19. Chapter 19

Vincent is just a random character. I just used his last name from Penelope Clearwater.

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Red…gold…orange. The colors of the sunset reminded me of the old Gryffindor days—when Tom and I were still together. This was the first time in months that I had thought about him again, and I still felt an unbearable longing in my heart. How could I forget anything that had happened between us? The snowy nights on the roof—the kisses we shared—how could any of that ever be erased, completely? I heard footsteps coming out of the little house, but I continued to stare at the dulling sun.

"Minerva," Vincent whispered to me, and I turned around reluctantly. I gave him a forced smile.

"Hello, Vincent." He crept over and joined me on the creaking swing. I leaned into him, but was surprised to find that he was rigid and frozen. "What's wrong?" I glanced up at him with worried eyes.

"Are you thinking about him?" I froze. How could Vincent know? I was acceptable at Occlumency; I knew how to block him out.

"What do you mean?" My voice shook slightly.

"Riddle. Tom Riddle," He said. I shook my head a second too quickly—but Vincent didn't notice.

"Ah. Alright," Vincent said, apparently satisfied by my answer. I felt guilty, but what could I say? Vincent would never leave me—he was sweet and kind, but I knew he would be living half-heartedly if I ever told him. He looped an arm around me, pulling me closer to him.

"The sun is beautiful. Just like you," He breathed, and I had to suppress myself from bursting into laughter.

"Me? Beautiful? Of course not," I said, laughing slightly. He frowned at me.

"You are. You're—" He was cut off by a silvery patronus that landed in front of us. The cat stalked onto the deck and opened its mouth.

"Vincent Clearwater is to come to the Ministry immediately. Surprise attack. Come quickly," It said, before fading away. I gripped Vincent's arm. He turned to look at me, white in the face.

"Be careful," I whispered, and he swooped down to kiss me once before apparating to London. Why hadn't anyone ordered me? Maybe it was because I was too inexperienced and talentless to. Scowling, I adjusted my quilt and rested my head against the wood.

* * *

"McGonagall! McGonagall!" A familiar, rough voice was loud in my ears, and they shook my virulently by the shoulders. I opened my eyes, and jumped back in fear at the glass eye that was swiveling around wildly.

"M-Moody?" I said. "What are you doing here? Where's Vincent?" I looked around, but only he was there.

"He's gone, Minerva. Some dark wizards attacked us, even if we had a hundred wizards with us it wouldn't have worked—they were far too strong. Never seen anything like it," He said gruffly. I stared at him, my eyes wide.

"Vincent..Vincent—he's _dead_?" I whispered, watching the blank space that used to be Moody revolve before my eyes.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Minerva. But he got killed by the leader." He told me quietly. My surroundings started to drift away, and I jumped up.

"Why couldn't you have sent me? It would have helped," I whispered. Moody looked down at me, a pitiful expression on his face.

"You didn't qualify, Minerva. If you want to resign, you should do it now. Honestly, I don't think it's the right job for you." He said, and I flinched. Of course. Trust Moody to be direct with me. But then again, he was right. I couldn't live on with this job, especially not when Vincent had been killed.

"I resign." I told him, my voice quavering. Moody nodded once, and stepped back.

"I'll be sure to tell the others. Good night, McGonagall." And then he left. I wrapped my quilt around my suddenly very cold body, and crawled to the bed. I sprawled over it, inhaling deeply. I could still smell Vincent—his earthy, welcoming smell—and I burst into tears. I hung on to those sheets that night, tears leaking from my eyes. _Vincent was gone_.

Before long, I stopped sobbing uselessly and started to feel rebellious. Whoever had done this needed to pay. The longing in my heart had stopped reaching towards Tom, but was now directed to kill whoever had murdered my husband. _Who_? Someone knocked on the door, and I opened it hurriedly. A man I didn't recognize was standing there, but he had a ministry badge on his robes.

"Minerva McGonagall?" He gasped out, and I nodded. "I know you've resigned—but come to the Ministry. There's another attack, and Moody insisted that you come. They were the same as last time." Excited, I gripped his arm and we apparated to the Ministry. Curses flew around wildly—someone could easily be killed in an instant here. I immediately noticed that the other masked figures were always turning to a single one—the leader. I scowled, trying to shoot a hex at him; I dodged all the other figures easily with my determination. But when I reached him, he blocked it easily and let out a shrill laugh.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Minerva?" I froze. Other curses flew around me, as if something was blocking them from harming me. _Tom? But…_And then it all made sense. Tom had come and attacked the ministry—but he had also seen Vincent among them, so he sought him out to murder him. Anger rushed through me, but it only lasted for a second.

"Tom?" I whispered. He extended his arm and wrapped one around my waist, and I flinched away. Ignoring me, he dragged me away, into another door, and another, and then finally behind a statue. I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You must be wondering why I'm here," He said, taking off his mask. When I saw his face again, I felt that familiar rush of longing. What was I thinking? This man—this _boy_ had just murdered my husband; and I here I was, wanting to feel him. To _touch_ him.

"No. I know what you did." I said quietly, staring at the ground, my hands twitching. "_Why_, Tom? You knew I loved him!" He made an angry noise and scowled at me.

"You didn't love him. You love _me_. I did you a favor." He hissed.

"I don't love you. I never did—!" I started, but Tom made a sudden movement and embraced me rapidly in his lean arms. I felt myself sinking again…my knees weakening…my heart racing…but then I snapped out of it. I pushed him away roughly.

"Merlin, Tom! What are you doing?" I snapped. He gave me a sly smile, and snaked an arm around my waist again, pulling me against to him.

"You love me. You love me. You love me. It's never going to change, Minerva." He whispered into my ear, and I shivered. As much as I hated this—as much as I wanted to whip out my wand and Avada him—I couldn't do it, because I knew he was right.

"Do you love me?" I asked suddenly. He stopped, and looked down at me with dark eyes.

"I'm afraid I do."


	20. Chapter 20

I wrote this in a rush...sorry if there are mistakes.

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

"Please, Tom. You have to turn yourself in," I pleaded him, once we were in his home—or rather, the Riddle house. It was an old house; and haunting as well. He turned away from the draped window and sneered at me.

"I can't, Minerva. Besides—my name is not Tom. It is Lord Voldemort," He said proudly. I scowled at him.

"_Tom_. Please, if you go now you'll probably only be in Azkaban for a couple years," I insisted, exasperated. Tom glared at me, like I was the biggest idiot he had ever seen.

"Why would I want to go to Azkaban?" He started, but when I opened my mouth, he snarled, "I'm telling you, I _can't_. I already made a horcrux. And you promised to, as well. But I don't think you should." I stared at him.

"I'm _not_ making a horcrux, Tom." I said. He sat down beside me, and then pulled back one of his sleeves very suddenly. An artistically grand—but also terrible mark was slithering on his forearm. I looked up at him, alarmed.

"It's a dark mark. If I turned myself in, I would never be this great any longer," He breathed, a maniacal glint in his eyes.

"Who _cares_, Tom? You'd be with me," I told him impatiently. He flinched.

"I… I can't, Minerva…and afterwards, you won't be in love with me anymore. I'll be so evil, so vulgar, and so…so great," He muttered. He suddenly shrugged out of his robes, and unbuttoned his shirt quickly. His chest was lean and muscular—but it certainly wasn't perfect. Scars—large, damaging ones marred his pale skin.

"What—what happened?" I asked faintly, tracing one particularly long scar.

"Horcruxes," He said grimly, and I looked up in surprise.

"They're nice looking," I said, and felt the sudden urge to laugh. He gave me an odd look before buttoning up his shirt again.

"I have more of them, all over my body." He said quietly, and I fidgeted with my hands for a few seconds.

"Horcruxes tear apart your soul. Your soul is not your body—but it'd affect it somehow, anyways. Why don't you just stop?" I suggested.

"It's too great of a feeling. The feeling of being ripped apart." He said savagely. "You have no idea what it feels like. I don't want you to do it, though. It'd tear someone like you apart." I glared at him. What was it with everyone telling me that I wasn't capable of doing anything? First Moody—now Tom.

"I can handle it," I insisted. He smiled at me, but it seemed genuine—not maniacal, or forced.

"You wouldn't be able to." He said. I fell back across the bed, feeling annoyance rush over me. I looked over—Tom had leaned back, gracefully though, and was now facing me curiously. With one hand propped under my head, I observed his face for anything different. Nothing was—he was just regular old Tom.

"I quit the Ministry," I told him. He looked surprised for the first time.

"Why?"

"Because I'd rather teach at Hogwarts."

"Oh yes, I heard Dumbledore is becoming Headmaster. You could take up his Transfiguration post," He commented.

"Transfiguration _is_ my best subject," I admitted, sitting up again. Knocking at the door suddenly interrupted us. Tom made an impatient sound and with a wave of his wand, the door swung open.

"My lord," A Slytherin that had been a year below me was standing at the door, nervously. "We've gotten the targets under the Imperius curse. They've gotten the locket back again," Tom smiled dangerously at the boy, and beckoned him to come closer.

"Tell them to bring it to me…_now_," He hissed, in a menacing voice that he had never used with me before. The now pale boy nodded stiffly and clambered out with alarming speed.

"Imperius curse? Gringotts? Merlin, Tom. What have you gotten yourself into?" I cried, once he had shut the door again. He rolled his eyes, and silenced my unanswered questions by pressing his lips against mine.

* * *

I know I should have felt guilty that I had been kissing Tom Riddle a few months after the death of my husband. But honestly—my feelings towards Tom were greater than with Vincent. Marrying

Vincent was not the right choice; I had done so to try and forget about Tom. I thought Vincent would have understood my choice, since he was always so caring and determined to make me happy.

Now we lay in bed, with nothing but the sheets covering our bodies. I had continuously convinced Vincent that I was not ready to do anything with him in bed…but now I had given my virginity away

to Tom. It had felt _right_, though—not forced. I climbed out of bed, slipping on my clothes quietly. Pausing, I turned around and watched Tom. His face wasn't in its usual grimace—but happy, content,

and youthful. Since there was nothing to do, I let myself out the door and crept down the stairs. There were none of Tom's followers in the living room, and I allowed myself to wander around the vast

rooms. Most of the books were muggle literature, but I found myself reading one in curiosity.

"You shouldn't read those." Pale, scarred hands reached over me and pulled the book out of my grasp. Frowning, I turned around to face him.

"Why not? It's interesting, getting to know the type of things Muggles think of," I argued, but he scowled at me.

"Don't tell me you're a blood traitor. Muggles are the reason we have to hide—why should they rule over us? _They_ should be the ones hiding, not us." Tom ranted, and I watched him furiously.

"Muggles are just like you and I," I told him, snatching the book back. He made an angry sound, gripping my forearm roughly.

"Muggles are so _low_ that they would _never_ be compared to you," He snarled, and I even felt flattered for a moment.

"They are, Tom. Like it or not—but I'm not saying you're not the greatest," I murmured, dropping the book and clasping my hands around his neck. He gave a low chuckle, and I felt the ghost of his breath against my neck.

"You and I—we'd be unstoppable," He breathed, our foreheads touching. I gave a slight laugh—I hoped he wasn't serious.

"Do you think Vincent's watching us?" I asked suddenly. He frowned at me.

"Yes…I think he is. But—why does it matter? He can't expect you to stay alone for the rest of your life; Merlin, you're only twenty two!" He exclaimed, and I felt a heavy weight lift off of my shoulders.

"You're right," I muttered, and leaned in to kiss him once more.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

"Well…I guess this a goodbye," I said, glancing up at Tom. He had recently made another horcrux—his eyes were now crimson. I wondered if he could still see me as he once did. He nodded, placing a

cold hand on my cheek.

"Don't come looking for me," He said, giving me a familiar smile.

"What if…what if I need to talk to you?" I asked nervously. I didn't want to go—but I had already promised Dumbledore. He shrugged.

"You won't. They'll be lots of others in your life," He replied nonchalantly, but I could see he was struggling underneath his cool façade.

"I have a feeling I'll see you again. I always do," I told him sadly. He opened his arms, and I embraced him. I smelled him, touched him, and tasted him for the last time—he would never be the same

again after he finished making his horcruxes. He gently took a strand of my raven hair and held it up to his mouth, smiling hauntingly—and then he was gone. I shivered, feeling his absence stronger

than anything else. I saw a small, bobbing figure walking towards me rapidly, holding a lantern that seemed too big for his figure.

"Ah, hello, Minerva McGonagall. I'm Filius Flitwick, but you may not have known me. I was a couple years above you," He greeted me, in a small, squeaky voice. I smiled politely, and nodded.

"Yes…I never had the impression that I knew you," I admitted, as he unlocked the gates. Sniffling the entire way, he led me back up the trail to the castle. Once the giant doors of the Entrance Hall opened, I had a great feeling of sentimentality wave over me as I remembered the seven years I had stayed here.

"Albus will want to see you. You know where his office is, I presume? The password is 'Nitwit." He informed me, leading me to the grand staircase. I smiled, gave my thanks, and started towards

Dumbledore's office. I was nervous—I wondered if he would know that I had been with Tom just moments before, now known as Lord Voldemort—a ruthless killing machine.

"Nitwit," I said, and the Gargoyle allowed me to pass. I stepped into the circular office—Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. I took a seat, crossing my legs and wringing my wrists.

"Hello, Minerva." His voice came out of nowhere, and I whirled around in my seat to see him next to the Pensieve. "Forgive my absence—I was taking just…visiting a memory," I forced myself to smile, but I could feel my palms sweating.

"Greetings, Professor Dumbledore," I said. There was that familiar twinkle in his piercing, sharp, blue eyes when he saw that I was nervous.

"Albus will do, Minerva. You and I—we are both part of the staff now, are we not?" He asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes…we are," I said.

"You'll be sleeping in your own room. You can get in through your office. I presume you know everything else? I sent you the rest," Albus said. "I think you will find Hogwarts very comfortable once again," I nodded, standing up and wiping my wet palms on my skirt.

"Thank you, Albus." I said, and sped out of the office as quickly as I could. He hadn't asked me anything about Tom—but then again, I hadn't given him the chance to.

My office was perfect. Crimson red was everywhere, as was the Gryffindor lion and crest. Stacks of books on shelves covered the walls—Tom would have liked to stay here and study with me, if only we

were still sixteen. But we were both in our twenties. We were separated, because he wanted to be great—and I wanted to live a quiet, happy life.

**

* * *

**

**1981—**

The first thing I saw was Hagrid speeding towards us with immense speed on his bike, holding a tiny baby in his arms. He was sobbing pathetically, and I failed to comfort him with my words. Because

me, myself—Minerva McGonagall, had no idea that Tom would come to such an unfortunate end. I knew he was not really dead; he had made many horcruxes in his life. I saw a scar on Harry Potter's

forehead. I couldn't help letting out a little gasp of surprise. How could have Tom done this? This boy—the boy who lived—was not even a boy, he was only a baby! Dumbledore placed him on the

doorstep, and I felt a rush of anger towards Tom. Once we had apparated back to the castle, I stepped into Dumbledore's office, no longer nervous. I may have needed to betray Tom—but if he was

going to keep killing little innocent _children_, I felt no sympathy towards him.

"Albus," I said, and he raised his head to look at me, looking very weary and tired.

"Yes, Minerva?" He asked.

"I—I think you need to know something."

* * *

Just a couple more chapters and this story is over..


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

* * *

"Well…I guess this a goodbye," I said, glancing up at Tom. He had recently made another horcrux—his eyes were now crimson. I wondered if he could still see me as he once did. He nodded, placing a

cold hand on my cheek.

"Don't come looking for me," He said, giving me a familiar smile.

"What if…what if I need to talk to you?" I asked nervously. I didn't want to go—but I had already promised Dumbledore. He shrugged.

"You won't. They'll be lots of others in your life," He replied nonchalantly, but I could see he was struggling underneath his cool façade.

"I have a feeling I'll see you again. I always do," I told him sadly. He opened his arms, and I embraced him. I smelled him, touched him, and tasted him for the last time—he would never be the same

again after he finished making his horcruxes. He gently took a strand of my raven hair and held it up to his mouth, smiling hauntingly—and then he was gone. I shivered, feeling his absence stronger

than anything else. I saw a small, bobbing figure walking towards me rapidly, holding a lantern that seemed too big for his figure.

"Ah, hello, Minerva McGonagall. I'm Filius Flitwick, but you may not have known me. I was a couple years above you," He greeted me, in a small, squeaky voice. I smiled politely, and nodded.

"Yes…I never had the impression that I knew you," I admitted, as he unlocked the gates. Sniffling the entire way, he led me back up the trail to the castle. Once the giant doors of the Entrance Hall opened, I had a great feeling of sentimentality wave over me as I remembered the seven years I had stayed here.

"Albus will want to see you. You know where his office is, I presume? The password is 'Nitwit." He informed me, leading me to the grand staircase. I smiled, gave my thanks, and started towards

Dumbledore's office. I was nervous—I wondered if he would know that I had been with Tom just moments before, now known as Lord Voldemort—a ruthless killing machine.

"Nitwit," I said, and the Gargoyle allowed me to pass. I stepped into the circular office—Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. I took a seat, crossing my legs and wringing my wrists.

"Hello, Minerva." His voice came out of nowhere, and I whirled around in my seat to see him next to the Pensieve. "Forgive my absence—I was taking just…visiting a memory," I forced myself to smile, but I could feel my palms sweating.

"Greetings, Professor Dumbledore," I said. There was that familiar twinkle in his piercing, sharp, blue eyes when he saw that I was nervous.

"Albus will do, Minerva. You and I—we are both part of the staff now, are we not?" He asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes…we are," I said.

"You'll be sleeping in your own room. You can get in through your office. I presume you know everything else? I sent you the rest," Albus said. "I think you will find Hogwarts very comfortable once again," I nodded, standing up and wiping my wet palms on my skirt.

"Thank you, Albus." I said, and sped out of the office as quickly as I could. He hadn't asked me anything about Tom—but then again, I hadn't given him the chance to.

My office was perfect. Crimson red was everywhere, as was the Gryffindor lion and crest. Stacks of books on shelves covered the walls—Tom would have liked to stay here and study with me, if only we

were still sixteen. But we were both in our twenties. We were separated, because he wanted to be great—and I wanted to live a quiet, happy life.

**

* * *

**

**1981—**

The first thing I saw was Hagrid speeding towards us with immense speed on his bike, holding a tiny baby in his arms. He was sobbing pathetically, and I failed to comfort him with my words. Because

me, myself—Minerva McGonagall, had no idea that Tom would come to such an unfortunate end. I knew he was not really dead; he had made many horcruxes in his life. I saw a scar on Harry Potter's

forehead. I couldn't help letting out a little gasp of surprise. How could have Tom done this? This boy—the boy who lived—was not even a boy, he was only a baby! Dumbledore placed him on the

doorstep, and I felt a rush of anger towards Tom. Once we had apparated back to the castle, I stepped into Dumbledore's office, no longer nervous. I may have needed to betray Tom—but if he was

going to keep killing little innocent _children_, I felt no sympathy towards him.

"Albus," I said, and he raised his head to look at me, looking very weary and tired.

"Yes, Minerva?" He asked.

"I—I think you need to know something."

* * *

This story is almost over...


	23. Chapter 23

Last chapter...thank you for all your reviews!

Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

There was nothing I could do anymore. I knew this, so I locked myself in the office and faintly attempted to heal the wounds I had inflicted during the Second War. I felt very lightheaded, and I

collapsed on the floor. But I never hit the ground. Tilting my head curiously, I suddenly felt familiar arms pulling me back up. _Very_ familiar…_Tom_? My eyes fluttered open, and I opened my mouth in

surprise. It was Tom, but this Tom was very strange—with white skin, crimson eyes, and a snake-like nose. Still; I didn't care. It was him. _Finally_. I had told him that we would see each other again,

hadn't I? I knew it. Feeling gleeful, I looked up at him with shining eyes, and I could tell he was feeling the same way.

"Tom." I breathed, placing a hand on his arm. He stiffened, probably out of years and years of no physical contact.

"Minerva," He replied. I _missed_ that voice. I heard footsteps outside, loud, protruding ones. Glancing at the door, I saw that it was locked and I relaxed at once.

"They will blow the door open, you know. I need to leave now." Tom told me, but I gripped his arm tightly.

"I love you," I whispered. "I'm sorry I told Dumbledore. I was—I was angry, that you would curse a baby and murder his parents," He frowned at me, his fingers twitching.

"The boy will die tonight," Tom said.

"Please," I begged him. He shook my grip off him roughly.

"No. I can't." It was the same reply as before. I slumped back on the floor. He stood up now, to leave me. Like he had always done. But I was done fighting now, and I didn't know what else I could do.

I let out a slightly maniacal laugh, throwing my head back.

"Are you going to kill me now, Tom? Avada me like you have to everyone else?" I taunted, as he slipped his slender fingers underneath his cloak, drawing out a beautifully crafted wand. _The Elder _

_Wand_. I gasped. He pointed it at me, but I did not flinch. I forced myself not to be surprised—after all these years, how could he have still loved me? "Kill me," I whispered, close to tears. But he didn't.

One minute…two minutes…three minutes…four minutes…five minutes? The voices outside were arguing now, and I could see Tom struggling. He finally stashed his wand away again.

"I can't." He whispered. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I've always loved you. I don't care if you don't love me… just don't hate me for it," My heart sped up, and I looked at him with wide eyes. For a

moment, he was just twenty year old Tom and I was just two years older than him. We looked so young—so beautiful, without the wrinkles of each unfortunate event that had gone wrong.

"I said I loved you," I mumbled. He took my hand in his large white ones, smiling at me, and then disappeared right in front of my eyes. He must have broken the Hogwarts barriers, by breaking in

here, since he could apparate. The door broke open, and I could hear the cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Oh, strict, old Professor McGonagall's not very strong now, is she? My, my, is it only me, or are all the greatest wizards and witches rather…_weak_, now that the Dark Lord is here?" She mocked, and

grabbed my arm roughly. "You're coming down with us," Her cold breath blew against my ear, and I was forced down to the Entrance Hall. Molly Weasley was speeding towards us with a furiously

tragic expression on her face—I knew immediately that she had just experienced a death. But before she could attack, I saw Tom again, by the doors, and Hagrid, holding Potter. _Oh, no_. He had done

it. He had really done it. I could only stare at Potter's blank face, but I saw him flicker an eyelid open—just barely. Suddenly, Neville Longbottom shouted out something, but I was too mesmerized in

seeing whether or not Potter was alive…and then everything erupted, Molly Weasley killing Bellatrix Lestrange…Potter rising up again…and then…

There was a loud cheer, but I was not joining in. I had the same reaction as the Death Eaters, and I felt a tear on my cheek. Tom was…dead? Once everyone had been sent home and Tom's body had

lay there, abandoned, I crept over to him, feeling my eyes shine with tears. I closed his eyelids, and I felt a strange feeling of peace. He could have been sleeping. This was the most painful parting of

all the partings me and Tom had ever shared—but yet, I was content. Content because he would no longer be alive to hurt others, and painful because…well, because he was Tom Marvolo Riddle and

I was Minerva McGonagall.

* * *

I know that I will die soon. It is 2025 now, and I feel a strange sickness in the air. I have been ill for a year now—my leaving of this earth will follow quickly. But I am glad I have no one that I treasure

in this life—not a single one, because I had practically given my life to Tom. I hadn't had children with Vincent. My parents are already deceased, and my siblings…they are away and happy, at the very

least. I feel myself drifting, like a tiny snowflake in a violent blizzard…and then I am at King's Cross, suddenly. It is snowing. There is a large pool of melted snow by the train tracks, and I walk there—I

feel oddly strong and youthful. I glance at my reflection, and I freeze. My face…my body…I am young once again. My hair is pure black and my eyes are their old bright, virulent green again. I wonder

how this could be—but then I realize that I am dead. This is why I am at King's Cross; I see everything so clearly. I am no longer a resident of Earth. I feel hands clasp around my waist suddenly, and I

whirl around, afraid. I look up slowly. _Oh_. You would have thought that he would be punished. But he wasn't—in fact, he looks as young and as happy as I am. I smile, because I have never been this

content in my life. Not since I left Tom by the gates of Hogwarts. He takes my hand from his face, and leads me onto the train. Before we board it, I cannot stand being so close to him. I clasp my hands

behind his neck, and stand on my tip-toes. I touch him again, and I realize this is what I have been waiting for. To live in a life after life itself—with Tom, forever trapped in our young bodies. Our souls

are sophisticated, after nearly one hundred years of living. We ride the train in silence, but we are watching each other the whole time. When the train stops it is no longer snowing. We are in a sunny

meadow, with sweet-smelling flowers and swaying trees. Tom takes my face in his hands, and leans down. Our lips meet, and it is not the end of the story. It is the beginning of the end.

* * *

It's actually the end of the story, but I dunno about them. But yeah...i'm feeling sentimental.

Reviews? :)


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